


Credo Tibi

by starrymeis (meiqis)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Domestic Fluff, Graphic descriptions of violence, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, like.... actually non-linear, mentions of 127, nct kind of is a crime syndicate?? organization??, possible trigger warnings in notes, renjun and jaemin as partners, there's a lot more fluff and domesticity than I made it sound actually, weapons and wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/starrymeis
Summary: "...the most experience might be garnered from Renjun but…” Doyoung sighed. “He’s a bit complicated.”To be fair, Jaemin had had his share of complicated people to deal with already. At this point, he had nothing to fear anymore, he was already grateful to be accepted in a different group like this, as if he actually had a new place to call home. “Is he the best?”Wrily, Doyoung smiled. “He is. You could learn a lot from him, I think, and he’s my first choice too. I don’t there’s anyone to teach you more than him in the shortest possible time.”...or just another story of Jaemin falling for Renjun against all odds and in the middle of murder, stakeouts and undercover missions. Just, you know, the regular assassination life.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	1. Jaemin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnyctzen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyctzen/gifts).



> I'm dedicating this work to [Lee](https://twitter.com/xingowo) and all the curiouscat anons I was allowed to send in, which also resulted in headcannoning for this verse. And, unfortunately, I'm awfully weak to this... (the one sure way to make me write something anyways)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part one of this little big present I've rushed through for the recent days and that positively drained me ~~Jaemin's pov is giving me whiplash, I don't ever wanna write his again omg~~
> 
> Publishing this, I'm actually coming out of my curiouscat hiding but because [Lee](https://twitter.com/xingowo) encouraged this so enthusiastically, I think it's most definitely worth it ♡
> 
> This first part will be Jaemin's part of the story though, be warned, there is no chronological order so don't strain your braincells too much to make sense of it just yet!
> 
> I hope y'all will enjoy! ♡
> 
>  **trigger warnings** \- mentions of alcohol abuse and its consequences. mentions of murder and poison. (semi-)graphic depictions of murder. offensive language. mentions of sex but no smut. abduction and according ptsd. guns, daggers, and other weapons. violence, fights, and blood.

“So, is that a gun or are you just-” One glance from the older and it was sufficient to shut Jaemin up, smiling innocently as if his hand wasn’t curled around Renjun’s hips, toying with the hard edges of the weapon carelessly stuck into the front pocket of the silvery pants.

To say his boyfriend looked mesmerizing would be a blatant understatement. Despite being horribly biased about seeing the love of his life dressed in his own clothes, Jaemin was certain about anyone would be smitten with the pretty Chinese this night. The washed out orange of the sweater already oversized on him made Renjun nothing short of looking tiny - delicate and fragile. It fit well with the overall aesthetic, with the tight jeans that matched an equally shiny mop of hair adorned with a simple pair of kitten ears. It worked well in making the older look innocent and harmless, none of the words anyone who knew him better would dare use on the smaller.

Jeno had pointed out that Jaemin might just be going bonkers after one and a half year spent around Renjun, something the younger would defy instantly. For why would someone call him crazy when he simply knew to appreciate the deadly beauty that was Huang Renjun? With his sparkling eyes and rosy lips and those elegant fingers easily wrapping around any possible thing to turn it into a deadly weapon. It was peak prettiness. 

Jaehyun had called him a masochist for falling for Renjun, too. It had nearly made Jaemin love and spill all sorts of secrets about his boyfriend, like how endearing he was when eating, how he looked like a drowsy kitten during early mornings nearly falling into a mug of tea, how brightly his eyes sparkled talking about murder and poisons or the chirpy little movements done while cleaning knives. They just were blind, the blond had concluded. Blind to this utter beauty not meant to be recognized by the average mortal.

“Get your hand off me before I break all your fingers and sew them up your ass.”

See, right there. To Jaemin, it was just lovely hearing these words, mostly because he knew they wouldn’t come true, not for as long as it was Renjun who wanted to feel his fingers up his ass, driving the older crazy, turning him into a rambling mess in the sheets. Oh, how much Jaemin enjoyed to see that, ever since he had been allowed to accomplish just that some few weeks ago. He couldn’t get tired of it, of the sight of his boyfriend becoming so pliable at night.

Actually, it made him feel like a teenage horndog all over again. When he had originally felt his libido go down by a notch after all this hormonal mess one called puberty, he had thought he wouldn’t return to that, just to be proven wrong since a while now.

“Get your head out of the gutter, monkeybrain. You reek of lust.” Next to him, Renjun was frowning lightly. The words were directed at Jaemin who couldn’t help smiling at that, neither could he help leaning in to press a fleeting kiss behind the smaller’s ears whose eyes were darting around the bursting full room.

Jaemin knew exactly what his partner was looking for, or rather: who. He also knew there was no breaking Renjun’s concentration once in professional mode so he didn’t think much of locking his teeth around the latter’s earlobe, lightly tugging at it. “You forget, my beautiful dear, I am but a sinner. An incarnation of lust. If only I can drive you to euphory-”

“Yadda, yadda,” the Chinese mercilessly interrupted, using one hand pressed against his forehead to push him away. Unwillingly, Jaemin inched back, allowing his boyfriend to breathe while the hand stayed curled around the unfortunately clothed hip. “Get me something to drink, horndog, if you wanna make yourself somewhat useful.”

Easily enough, he put a pout on his face. Just for tonight he had hoped it wouldn’t play out like this, at least not entirely. He had been close enough to being mislead by the mere fact his boyfriend had put up a guise befitting of this company party by dressing up when, by the end of the night, the kitten boy would turn out to be a workaholic regardless. There was no partying nor trying to talk Renjun into it, all the less when it took a short second for Jaemin to remind himself this must have been the undercover job the former had hated the most so far.

Admittedly, acting as an intern while dealing with the utter assholes that were company officials had taken a toll on the older recently and he had been served a first row seat to observe these struggles. He could also remember Taeyong apologizing shortly about having messed up their applications, meaning it was Jaemin who had received the quieter position at the front desk of the appropriate floor where he could keep track of their target’s attendance and leave rather than the more interactive position that would have easily gotten him in everyone’s better favor. No matter how great an actor Renjun was, eventually, he would be worn down by the constant smiles that were second nature to Jaemin. 

Just tonight everyone had been told to get off their working mode, to just soak up the atmosphere, to have fun for a change. Catering and drinks were plenty, the mood was great, and everyone else around them was indeed able to relax, not having to work and all. Oh, how much Jaemin wished they could be the same, not held up by a second job.

Two glasses were already in his hands, the fruity punch he had picked up for his partner and a Singapore Sling for himself. Or at least what came closest to it with the limited supplies the barkeepers had in store as per the officials request who were willing to spend but only if they didn’t spend too much. Stingy asses.

Drawing Renjun’s attention was easy enough with the older’s heightened senses but it didn’t mean it didn’t make him smile when he was immediately recognized upon approaching. Jaemin simply was whipped like that, as Donghyuck prefered to point out again and again. To be honest, he wasn’t too certain what that meant but if it implied getting willingly whipped by the older without falling out of love then he could readily agree to this being utterly true. 

“Thank you,” the Chinese muttered with his eyes distant, focused on the man they were supposed to get rid of rather than the glory that was Jaemin himself. It was enough to make the younger huff already.

Cutting off the faraway glimpse with his body, he leaned in, one arm supported against the wall behind the smaller, careful of not spilling anything. “Uh-huh. Don’t you think you should compensate me for my efforts, beauty you?”

Immediately, Renjun’s eyes flickered to his, grunting under his breath. “What are you trying right now, Jaemin?”

“Injunnie,” he smiled, trying his best to look charming as he can be as he looked at his own boyfriend, “I’m merely going along with my role. Did you not take note of my costume?”

As if it was the first time this night - which it probably also was, knowing Renjun - the smaller’s gaze went up and down his body, taking in his costume. It was nothing much, piece by piece: the jeans hugging his muscles perfectly, the ruffled shirt that was unbuttoned more than should be considered appropriate, the expensive looking Napoleon coat, his finely curled blonde hair. It was the overall that was exhilarating, giving off a perfect enough imitation of long forgotten Western beauty standards. 

At least so had Jaemin thought until the very moment his partner opened his mouth and asked, “A French pimp?”

He allowed a whiny sound to slip past his lips. “Casanova! Giacomo Casanova, Injunnie. How can you list at least twenty poisonous plants from memory but don’t know about the glorious figure of history that is Casanova?”

The smaller merely tilted his head in confusion, waiting for further elaboration that Jaemin felt obliged to give with an innocent smile, “I don’t know more either. Just that he’s famous for having seduced a bunch of women.”

“And how are you any better than me, you idiot,” Renjun hissed, glaring at him from beneath and, once again, tried to reach for the drink that Jaemin held out of his reach. The Chinese knew better than to cause a scene amidst a bunch of strangers when their whole tonight’s objective was to remain as hidden as possible.

“Payment, my dear,” he smiled once again.

Annoyance sparked in the other’s eyes, gritting through his teeth, “And what kind of?”

His reply came by pursing his lips demandingly, and even in the dim light, Jaemin could easily recognize the shy flush on the older’s cheeks. To him it was amusing again and again, how easily Renjun could flirt with everyone, dancing around Johnny, trampling all over Jeno, setting buildings afire with sexual tension while he and Hyuck exchanged innuendos, yet the only time there was heat driven to beautifully sculpted cheeks was when it was him flirting with Renjun. Oh, what a stroke to his ego it was again and again.

Punishment, as was usual for his partner, came first, courtesy of teeth digging into his lower lip roughly enough to break his easily affected dry skin, followed by a tongue swiftly licking up the bit of blood oozing out, and then their lips met. Short and sweet, and entirely not preparing for the hand shoving at his chest again. Much as it could be called one while being drowned out by his overlength sweater sleeve.

“Drink,” Renjun demanded once again and this time he didn’t refuse as he settled next to his partner instead, leaning against the wall with his back and sipping his own drink. A few feet away, he could see a handful office ladies dressed in costumes blatantly lacking creativeness but quite expressive in their interested gazes. It made him grin as he noticed, easily shooting the women a wink and smile, acting entirely like the player he was impersonating, as if his hand wasn’t already pursuing a purpose of its own.

Hidden by the shadows, he had slipped it behind the smaller, finding its way underneath his stolen sweater and the tanktop to caress along Renjun’s bare skin. It felt tough to his touch, covered by a bunch of scars he had taken his sweet time exploring, some of more innocent nature, some telling of cruel incidents, bit by bit, they made up the persona of the one he loved.

Underneath each of these white blemishes were tense muscles, speaking of the attention put into finding their victim anew, twitching beneath his fingertips. It had always fascinated him, how well Renjun’s body was reacting to him and their points of contact while the owner’s mind might be entirely elsewhere. Sneakily, he allowed his hand to travel lower, sliding between slender thighs just so he could grab at the bit of fat that was only his to explore and grab. Under different circumstances he would make sure there were marks left from his tight grip, alas, he was not allowed to. Not that he would have a problem with bending his boyfriend over in public, it had much more to do with his partner this would not take place any time soon. Or ever.

For a while, he kept this act of shooting flirty expressions towards ladies checking him out while his fingers were dancing around Renjun’s body up, albeit all good things had to come to an end, and this one came by the older speaking up. “You’re distracting me. If you’re not planning to be of help, just get me another drink and go mingle with the people. I can’t focus with you around.”

The words were, to put it bluntly, unlike the older who’d never admit to any sort of weakness. Jaemin could only reason it was because they hadn’t reached this level of trust so far but who was he to question it when he was the one to be put on a long leash this night.

“Following your every demand, my darling,” he purred before sauntering off to do as he was told: get another fruit punch, hand it to his boyfriend, and go off to flirt around as much as he wanted to. Not so much because it was something he actually needed to, he had no plans of getting into anyone’s pants but Renjun’s tonight, but it was easy training. People, and especially their targets, were more likely to let people in who had charmed their ways there, and different personas demanded different approaches, more than he was allowed to pertain while around their members. 

His current victim was a woman not much older than him, university student originally, she did her practical training for advertisements in this company and, according to her own words, had felt awfully lonely without anyone close her age working in her apartment. It came easily enough to Jaemin to agree with her, joining in on her pouting while at the same time reassuring her they finally had found company in each other they could make use of. That she reacted well to his flirting was evident enough, he just hadn’t expected it to attract attention from someone else as well, the least from Renjun. Yet it was evidently enough his boyfriend pressing up to him from behind, the hardness of a gun pressing into his hips thanks to their proximity and Jaemin was tempted to ask once again “is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” were it not for this very reason he was a bit worried. 

Unless prompted, Renjun was never too big on physical contact while being exposed to the public and if it was any of the sorts, it tended to be rather rough or quite simple. Not pressing their bodies together tightly as it happened right now. Ignorant of the curious eyes watching them, the older pushed upwards a bit, aligning his lips with Jaemin’s ear to whisper, “What are you doing flirting around after driving me crazy like that, Jaemin? Shouldn’t you take responsibility?”

The words, simple as they seemed, drove a shudder up his spine. It wasn’t like Renjun to behave like this but exactly because it was so unlike his boyfriend, it was driving him mad within a second. A charming smile was presented to the girl he had been talking to and he apologized, “I think my friend here is a bit intoxicated. I better take him out to get some fresh air but I’d gladly continue our conversation later, princess.”

Renjun pinched his side and it took all inside him not to flinch at that sort of teasing as he instead wrapped his arm around the older to lead away. It didn’t take long, maybe two seconds, before the older had the reins in his hand again, not taking them to one of the many overrun balconies but the bathroom instead.

“Fucking flirting around when I told you to mingle… You’re such a cheater, Jaemin,” the older cursed, kicking in the only closed door to make sure no one was taking a piss currently before pulling in said man for an embrace.

Under closer inspection, it was all too obvious Renjun was affected but not by jealousy alone. Nose and cheeks ruddy, forehead feeling feverish where it was pressed against his own, breath tasting a bit too sweet, it was quite blatant the other had been drinking. Which was unlikely enough, Jaemin had never once seen his partner drink, claiming these mediums altering his senses made him uncomfortable. So why would he know when-

With a halt, he came to a realization. Namely that it had been his fault the other was intoxicated like this, renownedly weak to alcohol, and Jaemin had naively enough passed him the fruit punch thinking it was free of that stuff. Sheepishly he smiled, eager to confess before he’d get chewed out the next day. “Renjun, hey… I think-”

Before he had so much as finished his thought, not to mention translated it to words, he was already cut off in the sweetest possible way. Lips pressed tight against his, despite the initial force, it was all too simple to find a rhythm, and he had never been one to show a gift horse in the mouth. 

Only, “In the bathroom? Really?” Contradicting his own words, his hands were already curling around the other’s thighs to hoist him up and take them both the few feet over to the counter. The space between the sinks was fortunately dry, not soaking Renjun’s bottom upon being let down again, their levels more evenly matched, their kiss instinctively getting deeper and more intense.

“Need no one,” the Chinese forced out in little breaks while never once letting their lips stray too far apart, “to see me kissing an idiot like you.”

It shouldn't be healthy to be turned on like this but knowing Renjun who spouted insults left and right, there was a unique thrill to being called that way in the same breath as the wish to make out was expressed. As if desire ran deeper than the defamation that came out as easily as oxygen went in.

“Fuck!” More, Jaemin’s brain was no longer able to procure, not when he could feel fingers curl into his hair, directing him here and there, just so their perfect angle for kissing was kept upright. Who was he to refuse Renjun anyways. 

His own fingers found home underneath the thick fabric again, grazing along the waistband of the other’s pants, just shy of slipping past. Instead, he moved upwards, tracing along finely shaped back muscles, the little dip that was the spinal cords’ line, well beknown of the fact it would drive the older insane bit by bit. True to his anticipations, it didn’t take too long for their kiss’ rhythm to be lost and instead of lips he was rewarded by Renjun’s neck being beautifully presented to him.

“That’s it, darling, that’s how it should be,” he gasped, out of breath himself. There was no way he wouldn’t be with his boyfriend in front of him like this. Taking his sweet time, he mapped out the main arteries with his lips, tracing them with gentle kisses and only resorting to marks further down where they could still be easily hidden by clothes, wouldn’t be noticed nor draw attention. That was something he could reserve to do when they were back at the headquarters, where he could more freely show off the fact Renjun was his, and his alone.

Around them, bombs could have gone off, the world could have ended, Jaemin wouldn’t have cared, Unfortunately, that seemed to be his thought process only. When the door opened, he didn’t notice but Renjun must have, for the older went stiff for a moment, unfit for a make-out session.

A tad too late, he considered to check out as to what the exact reason for their halted actions were, for one of the bathroom stall doors had already fallen close. He was just about to question his partner what exactly it was that was wrong, when the older signed him to be quiet with a finger pressed to beautifully swollen lips.

Quietly as possible, Renjun pulled out a syringe and pushed him away. The door was still closed but behind it the coughing of someone throwing up could be heard, and right after, the older’s faux tender tone asking, “Sir, are you okay? Can I help you? I will come in now, alright?”

Not awaiting an answer, the door was easily outlocked from the outside as well, as should be the standard for any semi-public toilet. No one wanted to be stuck in there for long. The man looked nothing short of pathetic, bent over the bowl, fingers tense around the edges. Mixed stenches of alcohol and vomit permeated the air and regardless of the time working in this field, it still made Jaemin, too, sick to just smell it. 

Renjun, on the other hand, was unaffected. Fingers brushed through the stranger’s hair in an act of support, looking for the right timing of the guy tensing up once again with another round of sickness, and the moment it came, the needle was pierced through the scalp, fluid released. Confused by sickness and alcohol, the man didn’t seem to notice, and the syringe disappeared as mysteriously as it had been procured.

“Sir, I’ll just get you something to drink real quick. Please just stay here!” The Chinese pleaded and stepped back, the door was closed again and the metal lock roughly wiped clean with the orange cloth. When he was done and satisfied, Renjun signaled for Jaemin to go out.

The music was more silent in the hallway, not reaching all the way down to the bathrooms and seeing them empty, he finally dared ask, “What was that?”

“Our victim.” Renjun shrugged, stuffed his hands into the kangaroo pocket of the sweater. “Seemed like the easiest method to kill him right now.” One questioning look was sufficient for the older to go on, “Some concoction Chenle came up with recently. Makes him barf his guts up until he’ll die of the strain.” It sounded less bloody than it probably was, knowing Chenle.

Considering their original plan was to slip the guy’s drink some poison that would induce a heart failure that could then be blamed on unhealthy living conditions - as proven right by the throwing up right now - and knowing there was also a hidden gun involved, Jaemin couldn’t help wonder just how many weapons of any sort were actually stuck on his boyfriend’s body. The question left him quickly enough when he saw the smaller falter in his posture despite them just standing around innocently. Clearly still intoxicated himself.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” He asked, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend once again who repaid him with a mischievous smile.

“To continue from before we were interrupted?” Renjun asked innocently, eyes darkened from need and alcohol. At this moment, Jaemin was assured that, no matter how deadly in professional mode, the most dangerous version of his boyfriend was the drunk.

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


His fingers jittered where they were placed on top of the desk, bringing even the papers beneath to rustle. The feeling wasn’t foreign to him - nervosity, lack of sleep, an overdose of sugar or caffeine, exercising too much - but it had never been this strong, simply because before there hadn’t a combination of several of those at once. 

Across the room, Jaehyun shot him a concerned look and, instantly, he tightened his fingers into fists to hide his trembling. Just in time, for the older was already approaching him, mouth curled down in worry. “You should take a rest, Jaemin. We won’t find him any faster by you wearing yourself thin like this.”

“You don’t understand, hyung,” the brunett replied, nails digging uncomfortably into his palm. It was his fault Renjun wasn’t here with him now, was somewhere else, far away from him, stolen from his protection. How ironic that he thought of himself as the one to guard his mentor when it had always been Renjun to protect him. Missions nearly failing, his rapidly dropping self-esteem, the bullets aimed at him. It had always been Renjun taking care of him, and in exchange - what? He had allowed his partner to be kidnapped? For what excuse? For getting a pole slammed into his head? It hardly seemed sufficient when he had already seen the older crying bloody tears from poison and still fighting like a hyena protecting its cubs.

Jaehyun’s hand gently curled around his shoulder, caressing his clothed skin in an attempt of soothing him. It did little to calm his shuddering body, the lack of sleep evidently taking a toll on him. “I do understand, Jaeminnie. But you’re not of help being like this. You should just-”

“No!” The chair he had sat on fell to the ground with his rapid outburst, yelling had called for the attention of more than just one person. Not only Jeno and Doyoung currently analyzing some CCTV they had hacked into but all their other workers too, their eyes were directed at him, standing in the middle of the room, seething from rage.

None of them could understand what this felt like. Renjun wasn’t only his partner and mentor, wasn’t only the person who had taught him to murder people as if it were as simply as slicing the broccoli for a stir fry - they were lovers, boyfriends, friends. Renjun was the love of his life and yet… he had just slipped away from his hold like water in a holey bucket, like sand carried away by the wind. 

Having to fight the guy who had tried to smash in his head was no excuse, not when he had come out as victorious. The reason he had eventually become useless was his own weakness, passing out with blood on his hands just shy of touching the motorcycle he had had his eyes on. If he had been just a bit stronger, a bit better at enduring and bearing the pain, he could have followed after the car and found out where they were himself, rather than being left behind clueless and with a whole organization attempting to pin them out.

Before him, he could see Jaehyun’s eyes harden. It was so easy to see the iron shutters being lowered and closing off the older’s most intimate thoughts. Even Doyoung, usually not scared of any of his members, was coughing silently to call everyone into focusing on work again. “If I were you, Jaemin, I wouldn’t speak so careless right now. The things you have seen and experienced are still harmless shit compared to what some of us have gone through. Renjun is more of our responsibility than he is yours so I advise you to go to your room before I knock you out myself.”

Everyone, literally everyone, knew of the older’s bad temper. A war machine in an angel’s dress. Usually it stayed hidden there, it wasn’t easy to provoke that side of Jaehyun and Jaemin knew, he knew it wasn’t normal, but he was agitated as well. This was his partner, his lover, and just because he was the newest addition to not only Dream but the whole of their organization, it didn’t mean he wanted to be babied like this. 

“Your responsibility my ass! If he were, you should have-” His words were broken by a slap to his face, followed by a sharp pain to his neck. The last thing he saw, was the rage in Jaehyun’s eyes before his vision blacked out.

  


  


A gargled scream was still lodged in his throat when he came to. Body doused in sweat of days and his nightmare, he felt nothing short of disgusted with himself. What was worse, he still felt the throbbing of Jaehyun’s hand colliding with his cheek. He had to give it up to the older, it had been a lenient punishment. Slapping with an open hand meant lesser force, a fist might have broken his jaw in the worst possible outcome. 

Earlier, he had been agitated, enraged by Jaehyun’s words when he should have known better. Deprived of sleep and food, running on caffeine and anxiety, he had been quite as out of his mind as the older must have been. For all the years he had been acquainted with the criminal, never once had he seen the other losing his shit like this. What had it been he had said? “Renjun is more of our responsibility than he is yours”? They probably were right…

Jaemin had spent only a fraction of the time with Renjun that the older had spent in this organization. They were family and he, he would still be the newbie. He was closer affiliated to Renjun than to anyone else and while normally he didn’t even mind, there hadn’t ever been a time he had felt as of much as an outsider as he did now. 

With a wince on his lips he got up, clumsily maneuvering through the room he had priorly occupied, albeit for two weeks only. His time in the headquarters had been limited, they had been fast in relocating him so he could learn from the best of the best. For a while, he had detested those he had been familiar with to not look after him for longer but with the passing of time, he had also come to realize as to why they had paired him with Renjun, of all people. Someone as careless as Jaemin was too, only in different ways. Complementary in their faults, only by being together had they learned to become better versions of themselves. A realization that haunted him all the more as he saw the painkillers and water prepared for him in the bathroom, as well as a new set of clothes. 

While he didn’t hold a grudge against Jaehyun, he hadn’t yet considered to apologize. But looking at the clothes he was familiar with as the older’s, it was all too evident he had cared. Jaemin had behaved like a brat, crazed from worries, and still, Jaehyun had looked out for him despite all his irritation. 

Guilt washed over him yet again, his constant companion for three days now, this time for another reason. Renjun was out there somewhere, suffering at the hands of whoever had intruded on their mission, and he was hindering the others at work because he couldn’t control his emotions any better.

It made him feel hollow, as if every remnant of his being was washed away by the water scalding his skin. Stimuli, Renjun had told him, helped grounding people in moments of panic or being swallowed up by their emotions. Those based on temperature were the easiest to control, and the cold was easier to handle than the heat. Hand someone ice cubes to hold on to, send them out into the cold in winter, put their feet into a cold soak. It wouldn’t harm them greatly but it helped ground them.

The explanations were playing in his mind on repeat as he allowed his skin to become more and more ruddy, washing away his sweat and stress until he felt like an empty shell. Running on bare minimum automatics, he washed his body, making sure he smelled of body wash profusely just because Renjun had once sleepily admitted to how it calmed him down. From there on, it had become a habit for him, using more shower gel than was actually needed.

His head was throbbing all over again, his stomach grumbled, and amidst his silent suffering, it made him all too aware how much he had been neglecting himself. One of the doctor’s had said he had suffered a concussion but everything after, he had ignored. The throbbing was still there, he could also sense the echo of the pole slammed against the back of his head. Just another stimuli, just another reason as to why he wasn’t going crazy yet. 

A knock startled him out of his reveries and before he could even react, Jeno had already opened the door and glimpsed around it. The fog clouding against the glass of the shower made it hard to see anything except black fuzziness, and Jaemin didn’t pay it too much of a mind, until, “We found him. We’re heading out now, so...” Slowly, Jeno’s words went unheard.

In a split second, the fog in his own mind disappeared and he quickly washed the last of the suddy soap off his skin to jump out of the shower. Not minding his naked body in front of his friend, he reached for his clothes, battled with the underwear sticking to his skin as he repeated, “I’m coming, I’m coming. There’s gear in the closet. Just let me change quickly. Then I’m coming. Just the gear and-”

“You’re not coming,” Jeno answered, voice pitiful. It had Jaemin freezing, shirt slipping through his fingers and falling against his body where it remained glued to thanks to the wetness when the words registered in his brain. “You’re not coming,” Jeno repeated, evidently having read his mind, “You’re emotionally affected by this. Allowing you to engage in battle in a state like this will not only affect you yourself, but also all of us and Renjun. You’re not coming.”

“Jeno!” Jaemin protested weakly but the older was already turning on his heels, heading back to where he had come from. It had the younger staggering for a moment before quickly sliding into the sweats he hadn’t planned to wear but had been the closest piece of clothing to grap, and grabbed his shoes in the passing. Running after the other was easy thanks to being used to the layout of the headquarters, but by the time he had caught up, Jeno was already getting ready to climb into one of the vans.

“Lee Jeno!” Effectively, he roused attention from his fellow Dream member, but also from all the others around them. Doyoung, fixing some cables still sticking out. Johnny and Jaehyun, checking their gloves and guns. Ten, inspecting the blades, ignoring Kun’s disapproving glance. 

Jaemin shouldn’t be surprised to see the latter two around, he had heard they had gotten ready to leave their overseas business behind the moment the kid they had basically raised had been reported to have kidnapped. He still was, merely because he hadn’t caught a glimpse of them yet, an answer presented to him by taking in the mass of daggers strapped to the smaller one’s body, the same glint of murder in his feline eyes as was usually in Renjun’s.

“You’re not coming,” Jeno repeated once again, and as if that was the end of it, he disappeared into the car. It left the youngest feeling pitiful, evidently left out of everything when it had been originally his fault, when it was Renjun. He just wanted to be there when they got him out, just wanted to make sure his partner was still alive and as well as could be.

His eyes redirected at Jaehyun, currently taking him in with a distant look in his eyes that had Jaemin squirming on the few steps down into the yard. The older seemed to consider it for a moment, twisting thoughts in his mind obviously, before his gaze went to Doyoung. “Make sure he stays with you and if you have to handcuff him, hyung.”

The intelligence member seemed surprised, looking first at Jaehyun and then at Jaemin. Doyoung, too, he knew since long ago, and he must have never looked this pathetic before for the older didn’t even protest before waving him closer. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jaemin whispered, again and again, as he made his van into the vehicle looking like an operation room and ambulance at once on the inside. Even buckled up in the co-driver’s seat, next to Jaehyun, he didn’t stop muttering these words, not until the older hadn’t put a hand on his head to play with his hair in an attempt to soothe him down.

“It’s all good, Jaemin. It will all go well.”

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


The housing wasn’t exactly what he’d expect of some super secret crime syndicate. Looking behind it, it must be their utmost intention anyways, to look as unsuspecting as possible. The outside looked well enough like an antique castle, facades still intact and renovated, a total contrast to the insides that looked all sorts of modern. It seemed even like all walls but the farthest outside layer had been torn down to keep up the act of old-fashioned architecture. 

Inside might be as well a twenty-first century bungalow, with a bunch of open space, sliding doors partly replaced with sturdy security versions of. 

It was impressing to him ever since he had set foot inside, guided around the area by Doyoung for the time being. “Jaehyun will show you around properly later so I’d advise you to just stay in your room for the time being. We wouldn’t want you to be lost, right?” An amused glint was in the older’s eyes as he looked back, blindly finding his way around the different hallways and rooms.

Funny as it might sound, it wasn’t unbelievable such a thing might indeed happen in a building as vast as this. It wasn’t only the main building, it was all the side wings separated by yards that seemed to make it unnecessarily intricate and Jaemin, at least at the moment, didn’t have the brain power to work through that. The recent days had exhausted him, he was glad to simply have found a place to stay without needing to worry further. 

Doyoung lead him to another compound and, after crossing some hallways, opened a door to a yet unused room. There wasn’t much to it: a big window front to the inner yard of what must have previously been another door, an attached bathroom, a bed and closet. It must be their standard outlay for any new occupant, regardless of how few there actually seemed to be.

“I’ll have to discuss with the others first but I think we’ll find someone to take you in soon enough,” Doyoung continued from where he remained standing near the door. On the front of it, the initials NJ were already hung up on a simple plate, marking it as his easily enough. 

“Take me in?” Jaemin asked a bit curiously, perking up at the mention of this. He didn’t know the exact meaning of this, for while NCT was a renowned enough name underground, there was little actually known about their workings. Drugs, smugglings, weapons, intelligence, murder - there seemed to be nothing they couldn’t do but how they did it, that remained a mystery. All they knew was to contact a person named 127 but even that, as he had grown to know over time, was a simplified name for the leading board of the organization.

“You lack experience to work with us directly,” Doyoung explained and, this time, sat down on the single step that introduced them to the room. The younger moved over to the bed, sitting down on the carefully arranged sheets a mere few feet away. “You might be more comfortable with Dream if you actually plan to stay with us. That being said, the most experience might be garnered from Renjun but…” The taller sighed. “He’s a bit complicated.”

To be fair, Jaemin had had his share of complicated people to deal with already. At this point, he had nothing to fear anymore, he was already grateful to be accepted in a different group like this, as if he actually had a new place to call home. “Is he the best?”

Wrily, Doyoung smiled. “He is. You could learn a lot from him, I think, and he’s my first choice too. I don’t think with your specialization, there’s anyone to teach you more than him in the shortest possible time.”

The teenager was just about to open his mouth when heavy footfall from the outside interrupted them. It wasn’t so much the intensity of it than it was the weight of the person itself, the strong thumping of combat boots and rattling of gear preluding Jaehyun’s arrival to the room. The messed up looking man barely so caught a hold of the doorframe to lessen his speed and twirl inside the room with a dimpled smile on his face, one that would look far more welcoming if not for the blood adorning his features. “I’ve heard of your arrival! How are you doing? Are you okay?”

From below, Doyoung reached out a hand to slap the newcomer’s thigh where it wasn’t decorated with buckles, straps and weapons. “Worry about yourself first, Woojae. Did you just step out of a massacre?”

“Actually,” the fighter started, only to be halted by the oldest’s raised hand.

“I don’t even want to know. Did the mission go well?”

“Good as could be.” Jaehyun looked smug, nothing short of it, and it was a trait Jaemin had always admired. To be able to be shamelessly cocky without ever seeming arrogant, it was always accompanied by a hint of humbleness. An odd mixture of better upcoming colliding with the ways of the street. “I just wanted to check in on Jaeminnie first.” His brown eyes went to said boy, smile softening. “I’ll just get changed and then we can go get some food. What do you think of that?”

In an agreeing manner, Jaemin smiled, and the bloodied soldier took his leave with some words of encouragement.

“Well,” Doyoung also started, pressing his hands to his knees and heaving himself up, “I’ll better take off then as well. You have my number so just call if you need anything, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” the younger agreed, trying his best to seem focused when all that was in his mind was the name Renjun being tossed around his mind like the ball in a flipper machine. Renjun. He was certain he had heard that name before but where, he couldn’t tell.

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


If it were to be said in the most blatant of ways, then, yes, Jaemin felt quite like a puppy waiting for his owner to come home. But, who could deny him, he hadn’t seen Renjun for two weeks and he was, honest to god, certain he was experiencing withdrawal syndromes! There was no night of peaceful rest for every full hour he woke up, looking for the company he didn’t get with his partner gone. Similarly, his cuddle sessions had been cut short, and movies were dreadfully draining when he had no one to enjoy them with. Especially when turning on the horror channel, he missed Renjun’s rapt attention only to be startled by every single noise after.

Slowly he also felt like overfeeding, surely so, he cooked for two people still when he had only one mouth to fill, and without his lover’s sadistic nature, he surely didn’t work it of quite as efficiently as he should. It was tiring, to say the least, and if only Renjun knew how much jasmine tea he had already wasted for the sheer routine of preparing such drink in the morning, he’d be beheaded by his own lover. A blissful death but, still, death. At least the last thing to see would be Renjun, a simple solace for his dreary life. 

The rattling of key aligned perfectly with the beeping sound of their electric kettle and, just like a dog, much as this hurt him to admit to, he ran to the door to greet an exhausted looking Renjun. Jaemin wasn’t the least bothered by getting the holdall thrown at his feet first off, he was already familiar with how fed up with everything his boyfriend could be, sometimes more, sometimes less, always depending on the mission it had been. This time around, it must have been a rather tiring one, based on how Renjun just threw his shoes to the side and stomped past him towards the bathroom.  
Door shut with a thud, hardly any noise could be heard afterwards, unsurprisingly. Shower replaced with the hot bath Jaemin had already prepared, it didn’t faze him that silence would ensue after it, although he did feel disappointed he hadn’t even been greeted by a kiss. Mean!

Crinkling his nose, he picked up the holdall and took it to the small closet they had their laundry baskets and washing machine at. Befitting of what was usually kept in their closet, it was mostly cozy wear inside, along with a pair of shorts and a shirt he had missed and already wondered about their whereabouts. The mere idea of Renjun taking some of his things along, maybe smiling at the sight of them and the memory of who they belonged to, it had him smiling too, as he stuffed them into their according basket. The most tricky was the gear anyways, so he left that on top of the washing machine for the moment, and threw the bag into the corner of the small room until it would be used again.

This evening, his own mission was to make his partner smile, and get that kiss he deserved, so he had a whole set of necessary steps ahead of him. For one, prepare the tea he had heated the water for, and for another, he needed to round up their dinner. After days of eating poorly, surely the older would be hungry and needing to eat something hearty. Following that… Well, there were sufficient ways to make sure Renjun was blissed out anyways. 

Some of which he could realize quite quickly, once his mentor joined him in the kitchen, dripping wet body covered by a flimsy towel around the hips only, leaving all the other patches of skin to be ravished by Jaemin’s greedy eyes. Flushed skin and soft flesh, scars and marks that weren’t his, he could feel the fire of greed take him over to once again claim what was is. A thought that seemed to be similar to Renjun’s, wet arms slinking around the taller’s waist, allowing them to stand chest to chest, water soaking worn out cotton.

They started with one kiss, then another, and one more, until Jaemin had his fill of tasting his lover and the toothpaste they shared. Instead, he made his way to the other's chest in gentle kisses, until he reached one of his nipples to engulf, lightly tug at with his teeth and roll his tongue around. When he pressed against it just right, when Renjun broke eye contact and closed his eyes, when he could feel the exposed dick twitch against the back of his wrist, he knew he had won. In the end, it would be his name leaving these wonderful lips, and it would be him occupying this beautiful mind, him claiming this wondrous body, all night long.

Countless love bites were already left behind, covering up the old and faded ones, tracing along scars and blemishes, when Jaemin decided they better move elsewhere. Not to get him wrong, he had nothing against kitchen sex, but after such stressful job, he very well thought his boyfriend deserving of a soft mattress, not a hard countertop.

Like this, he basically forced Renjun against him, bare skin against soft fabric, hard erection pressing into the planes of his stomach through the cotton, and he could feel the desperate attempt of the slighter to rut against his skin. It was difficult, and movement was limited, but from how close those kiss swollen lips were to his ears, it was impossible for Jaemin not to hear the following words, "I kept thinking of you when he fucked me. And I've been craving you so bad ever since, Nana. Please..."

Fuck. Not only Renjun's effect on him but also Renjun himself. The latter Jaemin was definitely about to do, so without a care of the world, he threw his boyfriend onto bed, limbs sprawled out, body exposed, legs fallen apart. It had his own dick twitching in its confines as he stared down at this horrible tease he had to call mentor, and decided just how he was going to wreck his boyfriend tonight. Come morning, Renjun wouldn't be able to walk, and that he would make certainly sure of.

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


“What are you doing?” Jaemin asked, one hand on the towel he was using to currently dry his dripping wet hair, the other supporting him against the table as he looked over Renjun’s shoulder. It was late in the morning but he was all too aware he had spent the recent hours alone in bed and while usually that would bother him more, today he considered it a good sign. To see nightmares replaced by insomnia was a step back towards normalcy for them.

Instead of proper words, the older only closed the book halfway, showing off the Chinese characters written onto the red paper, meaning it was not only one of the countless books Jaemin couldn’t read, it furthermore implied it was about traditional medicine again. Descriptions not just for the plants and herbs used for healing but damage alike, it was an IKEA instruction for murder for those who knew what to look out for.

Throughout the recent days, he had seen his partner do a lot of those, the readings and researches, had even spotted some greens having been plucked and laid out. A concept he could get behind, after weeks of being more or less chained to the beds and forced to rest, at least the mind should get a workout of its own. The practical use of it was more scary, had him considering whether that one time he had caught Renjun pour some powder into a random glass in the hotel restaurant around dinner time hadn’t been the only time this had taken place. Not at the level of killing - yet - but sufficient to test some of the effects of whatever it had been.

With a sigh, Jaemin dropped into his seat across the other, and took to observing his boyfriend instead. They had switched to plasters some days ago, easier to replace than the bandages who had become unnecessary but wounds not sufficiently healed for him to want to risk them to get irritated again. A bit more freedom of movement was granted by them, too, which he had seen Renjun enjoy a tad more.  
The bruises around the older’s neck were fading as well, replaced by his own lovemarks instead, ever since the skin hadn’t been as irritated anymore. Happy reminders to erase the darker ones. Some yellow-blue patches were still left behind around the other’s ribs from where two had cracked, each of them carefully kissed by Jaemin at night. Overall, the healing process passed well enough, only the scars remained an ugly reminder that ached him more than Renjun. There were a lot of scars on his lover’s body that were caused by him, after all.

Some nights, when he had his boyfriend beneath him in bed, sprawled out and squirming from pleasure, when he took his sweet time exploiting all of Renjun’s sensitive spots, he couldn’t help notice them. The star shaped mark of where a bullet had penetrated his thigh during their first ever mission together, caused only by him having been careless, it should be considered a miracle he had managed as much as stitch that injury up without further damage. Easy surely wouldn’t be a word he’d use for the impromptu operation that day. 

Another would be the gash along Renjun’s ulna, from a knife attack that had been stopped but not without cost. It had been sheer luck it had been the outside of his arm, missing most of the major arteries, it had left an ugly scar nonetheless. Those around the fingers now, they were just the same. They would become bumpy from digital movements and mar the beauty of the older’s slender hands. Not to mention how much of a giveaway it was of their profession, marks that could no longer be covered up, wouldn’t grow out like the missing nails.

“You’re overthinking again,” Renjun pointed out without yet having looked up from his book, and blindly shoved the can of coffee across the table. There was another, likely being tea, based on preferences. With a little disarmed sound, the older closed his book, not even bothering to mark it as Jaemin noticed, and turned to him. “Do you want to know what helps me get over all of this?”

Lightly the younger raised his eyebrows, not daring to look away from his mug of coffee as he filled it because just yesterday he had fallen for that trick and promptly spilled over the cup, making a mess of their breakfast table. Which wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t aware of the few dogs the hotel kept, with one of them being notoriously hungry, and not even staying in a bungalow some short distance from the main complex was sufficient to keep these hungry mouths away. 

An answer never came, and as he looked up, it was to the sight of Renjun chewing thoughtfully at his French toast, looking at something in the distance Jaemin couldn’t even dream to spot. “Did you know,” the older picked up, making the latter perk his ears in interest, “that geezer three bungalows down is cheating on his wife?”

The question was so unexpected, it would have the Korean man startled any other time, indulging his boyfriend in questions of how and why that would get answered on little evidence like the mark of an unworn ring or the obvious lies of being stuck in the office over the weekend. Only from this very specific way the older’s eyes glinted, he was able to draw his own conclusions, which he immediately cut off with a startled, “No!”

With effort he ignored the way bloodthirst in Renjun’s eyes had his guts twisting in interest, and at this point he was certain such a thing as a reverse corruption kink existed, for if it was Renjun, he would willingly get tainted in any possible way. Beginning and end, alpha and omega, his heart belonged to his partner only. 

“I didn’t even finish, fucker,” the other muttered under his breath, yet easily enough gave up. They already had had this conversation during the first day and as much as Jaemin took delight in seeing his lover work so profusely on developing so many different plans and paths to achieve his result, there was a point they had to stop. Namely when an police investigation would hinder their departure from the islands eventually, or discovered they were here with faux identities, that their money was illegally obtained, or whatever else there was. The best way to stay hidden was to stay within sight without arousing attention, so much he had already learned. 

“Is there anyone who knows you as well as I do, darling?” Jaemin shot back with a tone of mockery and, indeed, now Renjun had no reply at the ready. Not believing in heaven nor hell, it put the younger at an advantage at such moment - from the birthmark on the other’s pinky toe to the the scar right beneath the hairline at the nape, from a demonstration gone wrong, he was certain to know more about his lover than anyone ever could. Inside out, he had learned, memorized, and taken advantage, only to use it against Renjun as he saw fit.

Naturally, that meant at least the knowledge of physical traits they shared, albeit he partly blamed that on his mentor’s sadistic nature in terms of work. More so, in the recent days, he was forced more and more into working out again, and while it was excruciating and sometimes bringing him to his limits, whenever he was demanded to do three times thirty push-ups and crunches and whatever else came to mind, followed by running in the sand and swimming, when he was already gasping for air and Renjun still demanded more, at least the looks he received were to his liking. More and more greed and lust shading these beautiful orbs, Jaemin definitely took advantage of whatever energy he had left late at night.

The Chinese beauty scrunched his nose up and forked another piece of French toast. “What if I say the lady next to us is known around the Chinese black market for illegally hunting animals and selling their remains to doctors whose remedies won’t work anyways?”

“Is she?” Jaemin simply asked. It was mean of Renjun to blatantly take advantage of their shared love for animals to coerce him into agreeing, and after all these previous attempts, he didn’t exactly trust his boyfriend. But Renjun was a lot of things, a liar towards his boyfriend was none of those. 

“No…” The older grumbled around his piece of toast, clearly displeased with being repeatedly denied. “I just want to kill someone already. I feel like I’m losing my touch.”

“Anyone,” he reassured, “anyone but you would.” Gently, he allowed his fingers to travel across the plasters on Renjun’s skin, wishing for the wounds underneath to heal faster already. “Besides, I just don’t want to get stuck here. I’m afraid, if I keep you trapped for longer than initially agreed, you’ll go berserk for real.”

A visual he didn’t exactly mind. He wondered when he’d come to appreciate his partner in gear quite as much as his boyfriend naked in the sheets but, it was a fact. Perhaps because they screamed danger in quite the same way, a trap, luring men into their demise, and he was readily walking into it, again and again. 

“Don’t worry. There won’t be no police while we are here.”

  


(Indeed, the police passed them by on their day of departure, as they were already on the way to the airport. Jaemin had acted as if he hadn’t seen Renjun slip a pill into a drink, fuzzy for a second and then dissolved, and in exchange, Renjun hadn’t complained about the… special present. It had seemed like a fair enough exchange to him.)

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


Seldomly did he remember what he dreamt about and, despite Donghyuck’s better claim of him not dreaming at all, Jaemin knew better than that. Every person dreamt every night, psychologically speaking, it was the mind’s way to process a day’s happenings, be it for the better or the worse, it was a way to keep their brains busy as there were no outwards impressions to draw experience from.  
So the second his eyes tore open, he had already forgotten what had kept his dreaming mind occupied just a moment ago. More so, based on the way Renjun was tossing around the bed, screaming in pain, sweating profusely, Jaemin had something way important calling for his attention. It was the first night the older had been allowed out of the ward, and along with that had refused to take medication, no matter what argument the blond had brought forth. Mere minutes into the discussion, he had started to question how exactly Kun had managed to get the patient medicated but then again, Renjun had been drugged since he had been transferred to the infirmary, so that mostly explained it.

Another scream tore free from the sleeping one’s mouth, louder than the previous ones, piercing enough to wake even himself, and it broke Jaemin’s heart to see his boyfriend jolt awake from it. Terror was burning behind dark eyes, making the question of what kind of nightmare it had been unnecessary, the answer was all too obvious. With all the events of the recent days, simply looking at his lover, he got all the explanations he had never even asked for. 

“Oh, Renjun…” The whisper suddenly sounded all too loud in their room as Jaemin settled down again, and pulled the smaller to rest on his chest, their movements not aligning. The older breathed too fast, too shallow, traces of panic blatant and aching him further. With how strong he was always acting, so high on his horse, so confident, Jaemin hadn’t ever thought Renjun to be so thrown off by how the events had played out. It had little to do with overestimating his boyfriend and all with underestimating the effects a situation like this could have on someone. 

Kun, just some nights ago, had reassured him no such thing would take place, that he shouldn’t worry, because Renjun would be back to normal faster than any of them ever could. Ever so gullible, he had simply believed it, had chosen to accept the easy affirmation of his partner having gone through worse, not once considering that, maybe, after experiencing worse once, this might seem like an amplification of it. 

Even when Renjun himself had promised to be fine, he should have dug deeper, simply for the fact that the older couldn’t have possibly been in the right state of mind at the time of torture. When in a daze, everything seemed less harmful, easier to handle. But Jaemin had simply swallowed that pill, accepted it as he was told, and now he was suffering, aching from merely seeing the pain on his lover’s face. 

With his fingers tracing along the smaller’s spine, he simply waited for his partner to calm down. In the recent days, while stuck in the infirmary, not once had Renjun brought up the topic of his abduction and torture, and he wasn’t about to force it out of his partner now. Sometimes, regardless of his own wishes, it simply wasn’t the right moment to, and it was not his story to tell, so all he could do was offer the endless patience he had for his love, and keep up the silent support. 

It took a while, before the trembling stopped and their breathing was in synch again, as it normally was when they were cuddling, sleeping together, staying within each other’s embrace. With his other hand, he brushed back some of the silvery strands, matted to Renjun’s forehead, pushing them out of that beautiful face he was in love with so much. 

“What do you think of taking a bath together, my dear?” Jaemin silently offered, fingers still combing through the soaked tresses. “And after, if you don’t want to sleep yet, I’ll make us some tea and we can watch a movie. Does this sound good to you?”

Mute from the strain and stress, maybe even embarrassed by his own weakness, Renjun only nodded his head but it was sufficient for the younger who carefully undid his hold and slipped away. Immediately, he could sense the mattress shifting behind him, and he didn’t question it when the other followed him to the bathroom despite easily being able to stay in the bedroom. It might have to do with the room being alien to the both of them but the 127 members had forbidden them from leaving just yet, at least until the worst of the wounds had healed. His pride had stung at those words, and he had forcefully swallowed it down that moment, reminding himself it did not only have to do with his skills - because it definitely also did - but more with the equipment they had around the headquarters but not at home.

Now, that meant they were staying in Renjun’s old room, originally supposed to remain separated, a promise quickly broken when there had been so much vulnerability in the injured’s eyes, and Jaemin hadn’t dared leave. For the better, it seemed, when memories were still returning strong despite his companionship. He didn’t even want to think about how much worse it would be if he were away.  
With ease, he maneuvered around the bathroom, started the hot water to fill the tub and looked for some additives to drop inside. Eventually, he had to settle with simply pouring shower gel inside, refreshing scent of coconuts filling the crook and corners of the room and spreading with the ascending mist. 

Tub half filled, he turned around to the other, standing crouched with his weight leaning against the counter, shaken by nightmares, lacking all the usual confidence. None of this would get any better in the upcoming days, it was never as easy as this, but after some days, some weeks, at least he would still be there to support Renjun going through his shock, and keep him guarded with his own arms. Whatever had played out in these hours they had been apart, there was no way he would allow it to happen again.

“I’ll take off your clothes now, alright?” He asked, carefully, as he wrapped his fingers around the shirt that was neither his nor Renjun’s but covering the latter’s injuries nonetheless, sleeves reaching over his hands, covering the bandages well. From the size alone, it might as well be Johnny’s, and it might have Jaemin feeling more territorial over what was his under different circumstances. What a horndog he was, actually, even resorting to describe his own boyfriend as territory instead. All of this, it was messing with his mind, too.

When Renjun nodded in agreement, he went to work, carefully pulling off the shirt, sweats and underwear, leaving the bruised and beaten body exposed to the heated air. It wasn’t as shocking anymore as it had been the first time, neither did it make him happy, and he wished, with whatever magical remedy, that he could erase them all at once. Unfortunately, no such thing was possible, time was their only cure, and it took longer than he liked.

Hands curled around slender hips, he guided his boyfriend towards the tub and steadied the older sitting down in the water, making sure the bandages wouldn’t accidentally get soaked. Changing them once a day was great enough a struggle, he didn’t want to add further to that, even less so aggravate the wounds any further. 

With Renjun securely settled in the tub, the water turned off, Jaemin took to undressing himself as well, paying attention to not disturb the smaller too much, taking this bath was all about comfort, not about bringing further chaos into their peace. Sat down, legs spread around the older, it was Renjun himself who leaned back, looking for the comfort of close contact on his own, and Jaemin would always readily indulge that. Regardless of the time, for as long as the other wanted to stay like this, far away from dreamland and nightmares, he would comply, and just keep the older close, and safe.

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


Over the recent months spent together, Jaemin had thought himself to be getting somewhat better at reading his mentor’s emotions and, sure, Renjun was still scary as fuck but he had also thought they were slowly growing accustomed to each other. For one, more than anything, he had become aware of the older taking their shared profession more serious than anything else, only emphasizing the rumors he had already grown familiar with.

Not just within the organization, actually, even outside of it, Renjun had garnered a bit of attention. Ironically enough, they called him the Last Assassin. Personally, Jaemin believed such name to have mainly surfaced because they didn’t know about Renjun’s name and those who did were strictly advised to keep mum either way. That aside, the name was still fitting, as he had observed from a first row seat - never before had he seen someone move as sneakily, managing to stay quite as undetected not only thanks to Doyoung’s fiddling with technology and security systems. Hacking did not affect humans, but those, too, could not usually pick up on his mentor’s traces.

It had impressed the younger, to say the least, and since day, despite mostly only getting to watch, he had grown to learn a lot. The more he saw, though, the more he was convinced that Renjun was the best of his field, and, unfortunately, he, too, had a lot of experiences with different kinds of assassination already. That didn’t even regard the obvious ways of sniping someone away like a paper doll, it was all about hairpins dripping poison and medicine being exchanged for their counteragents, provoking the symptoms in patients that were supposed to be cured. Silent and secret murder, an attack from the shadows. Wasn’t that what being an assassin was about?

So, likewise, could anyone blame him for wanting to get closer to this mastermind of a killer? Jaemin would have doubted it if only that exact person hadn’t just poured hot chocolate over his thigh as if it weren’t scalding, not even bothering to look at the younger and yet, all too palpable, he could feel the irritation radiating off his mentor.

“Jaemin,” the one seated near the window started, staring out of it with obdurate persistence, as if there weren’t several cameras installed to keep track of their victim’s housing. “Despite you knowing better about consuming so much sugar, I gave you a free pass on several occasions because you’re simply insufferable without it! But don’t drag me into your shit because I’m not about to die of diabetes at thirty like you idiot will.”

These words alone drove a shiver down the younger’s spine, cold creeping up on him and yet, disregarding of his better thinking, he felt irritation slip into his mind, and his tone. He had just meant well, why was Renjun getting all up his ass like that? It had him, too, seething slowly, for there was only so much talking and looking down at him he could take. 

“You could have just said ‘Thanks but no, Jaemin’,” he forced out between gritted teeth, and he regretted it the moment the older’s gaze was directed at him. He knew this look, the one that told tales of murder, a thousand and one ways to take him to his grave with bare hands alone. How did this saying go? Humans had invented more methods of inducing death than there were to bake bread? Or was it the positions during sex? Whatever it was, he could see the count rapidly rising in his mentor’s eyes.

“Did you just,” the killer started, and turned in his seat on the windowsill, attention focused on Jaemin, “talk back to me?” Forget it, the change of position wasn’t nearly as scary as having the guy who was smaller than him by a bit approach him because, no matter their difference in strength, Renjun had too much skill to not break him in two like a toothpick. “Had it gone according to my wishes, you’d already be dead, Na Jaemin. It’s because of Doyoung asking me this favor you’re still alive, so don’t try me, boy. This will be your last warning.”

The wall felt cold against his back and he wasn’t even certain when he had retreated as far as to hit the border of their shared room, yet, here he was, fleeing from the man he was supposed to be looked after by. It sounded like the script of a bad movie, the biggest threat he had to face after joining a new group for protection was right amidst them, their very golden boy. Oh, if only he wished it was a bad movie, then the screenwriter would find some awful methods to make this notorious bad boy fall in love with unsuspecting him and - poof! kaboom! - they were a couple. It did sound nicer than getting threatened with getting his lifetime cut short.

Renjun gave him one last warning with his eyes alone before turning on his heels to return to his spot, and Jaemin allowed himself to falter and sink to the ground. The fact alone that hot chocolate was soaked through his sweats had him feeling as if he had just pissed his pants but, albeit the liquid still felt too hot against his skin, he considered it way less embarrassing than wetting himself. Luckily, at least those urges he still had control over. 

Hand pressed over his heart, he looked at his mentor again, felt it race within his chest, thumping against his ribs from the inside. How traitorous, to still make him feel restless even when the worst was over, then again, that simply was how adrenaline worked the body. 

Getting up had never felt as strenuous and, despite knowing of his own share of still steaming hot chocolate, he forewent it and got some fresh clothes from his luggage instead. “I’ll take a shower…” His voice, barely a whisper, was still picked up by Renjun, or maybe the older just didn’t care, but Jaemin felt just about done with all of this for the night. This stakeout was more tiring than anything else, at home, at least, they had separate rooms, didn’t need to share a bed like this. Though, it wasn’t like they did even that, he wasn’t even certain his partner ever slept. 

Not even two minutes later and he stood beneath the streaming shower, had quickly peeled off his clothes without care to get a better look at his thigh instead but, looking down, he was also made aware of another problem of his. Fuck. When had little intimidating murderous midgets gained a right to sexually arouse him? Was the universe fucking him over for real?

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


If it were about what Jaemin wanted, he wouldn’t be anywhere close to the gym at the moment, any less so with Renjun leading the way. It was crazy, absolutely idiotic, to attempt working out when Kun had strictly advised him to prevent his boyfriend from doing that, as if he wasn’t already aware of that...

The blood tests hadn’t been clear on what drugs the older had been induced, it was only proven there had been some in Renjun’s bloodstream upon being retrieved from his abductors. An impressive feat, considering the evidence of having drained blood as well. The Chinese doctor had voiced his suspicion of the supplied blood having been drugged originally, getting the chemicals even faster into their victim’s body and working there. It was like cleaning by rinsing, only in all the wrong ways.

Once, their shared patient had gotten away and attempted a workout but after nearly fainting from the strain, they had made even their stubborn golden boy understand it was counteractive. So, instead, Renjun had tackled him with curious glances all day long and then stated he, if not allowed to work on his strength, at least wanted to train his flexibility, not willing to get rusty because of having to dumbly heal his wounds. And Jaemin, in charge of overlooking the healing process, had, one way or another, been roped into this all along. He really should work on his ability to deny his boyfriend already.

No one was around the gym at this time and who could blame them, it was the crack of dawn, normal people were supposed to be asleep at this time, and they should do, if not for Renjun’s nightmares waking them once more way too early. At this point, Jaemin at least had an excuse as to why he was living off coffee, considering how little sleep he was currently getting.

“I hate you,” he whined, merely spotting the mats covering the ground, well aware his boyfriend was already heading for them. Slippers kicked to the side, bouncing off somewhere against the wall, with no regards to order, and later on it would be up to Jaemin to collect them for Renjun anyways. If priorly he had thought his boyfriend to be demanding on the job, it was all the worse while sick. It could also be his fault for having indulged the older a tad too much.

“Liar,” Renjun answered, purred, and waved him closer to join in the exercises. Basic stretching at first, starting from the neck. “You love me.”

Ever so slightly, Jaemin pushed his lips into a pout. Could also be less unobtrusive than he had wanted to, considering the amused glint in his lover’s eyes. “Fine… I do love you.”

How endearing, despite Renjun having prompted him to confess, it was still the older’s turn to blush in embarrassment, head turned to the side and followed by the whole of his body, drawing Jaemin’s rapt attention. There were times to tease, and times not to. Workout hours, he had learned, were most definitely the wrong time, and once it had even ended with a kick to Big Nana. One year later, he had yet to receive an apology for that, and that following blowjob had definitely not counted, albeit he had positively gotten his brains sucked out of his body. 

He was still pouting as they continued their routine, stretching their arms and upper body, although his attention was highly focused on the older at this part, not wanting to ignore the slightest signal of pain Renjun might be hiding by him, worsening any of the injuries suffered and prolonging the healing period any more. Fortunately, there were no incidents, making smooth progress to the lower body stretches. 

Flimsy fabric of Renjun’s shorts rode up, revealing the bruises from where cannulas had pierced the skin, partly covered by a plaster, partly too big to be entirely hidden. That alone had Jaemin’s emotions swinging like a pendulum, going back and forth from worry to interest, the colorful bruises against soft skin he just wanted to curl his fingers around and-

“It doesn’t hurt that bad, Jaemin. You don’t need to keep watch like a hawk.” His boyfriend’s reprimand, albeit only half-correct, hit spot on and, slightly startled, the younger tore his eyes away to look up in embarrassment. Right, that was a thing, the reflected attention when it was only the two of them. So distracted, he had already forgotten about that. 

With half a smile, Jaemin averted his gaze for a moment, and gathered his thoughts again, pushing away the more naughty ones. They could follow up later on, too. Dirty thoughts of an injured person weren’t appropriate anyways. So, instead, he spent the following hour or so focusing on Renjun, aiding with any movement that demanded the usage of hands, arms still immobilized and told to remain that way to speed up the healing along with preventing the scars from bulging too much. 

Every coin had two sides, though, and the longer he kept watch of his boyfriend so easily sliding into the splits, folding his body in half, leaning this way and that, arching his back, the more those banned thoughts pushed against the borders he had set. Not only that, their physical effect was undeniably, too, and that it mixed in with the admiration that was always underlying his arousal was not the least in his favor either. No, it wasn’t enough that Renjun could spread his legs in a one-eighty degree angle, the fact Jaemin had experienced the strain that was made it all the more appealing.

At this point, it was only a matter of time until the folds of his oversized clothes would no longer suffice in hiding his dick hard and twitching with every new exercise Renjun achieved, and he already was dreading that moment. It could go either way, his boyfriend making fun of him cruelly, disregard him maybe, if it was a generous moment, or in the most excruciating sort of bedsports ever, considering he wasn’t even allowed to strain his lover’s body in any way. Might as well just give up right then…

“Jaemin?” The older asked, and the addressed man didn’t even realize, not until Renjun loudly yelled “Hey!” right into his ear. That, effectively, got him out of his derailing thoughts, and, unfortunately, sent him toppling over backwards. His hands, still wrapped around the older’s waist, forced the smaller along, which didn’t make for a nice fall at all.

The Chinese had to watch his hands, intentionally overriding instincts to support himself on his injured hands, meaning Jaemin had to suffer the whole of the impact. Not that Renjun was heavy, on the contrary, might have even lost weight throughout the recent days but their position was compromising - compromising him, to be exact - and his boyfriend must have realized as well. As if the way the older sat up quickly wasn’t enough to give that away, heat was painting the scarred neck red, right in front of Jaemin’s eyes too.

It was endearing, the way Renjun, despite of all things they had done, was still affected by him that much. Though, now he couldn’t hide his own reactions anyways. With a grunt, he heaved himself up, one arm finding home around his boyfriend’s waist again, fingers dancing across the dipping sides. “I’ll just take a cold shower back at the room,” he promised, not wanting to intimidate his lover who, honestly, had enough on his plate already. Sex should really be the last of their priorities now.

Against his better judgements, he felt one bare foot rubbing against his clothed calf, realizing with slight delay it was the replacement of hand holding they couldn’t currently engage in. Adding further to his surprise, and hardly audible, straining his ears, he heard Renjun whisper, “My mouth… is not injured…”

Fuck. Had he not already been hard, he would definitely be now. Cursing under his breath, he released a shaky breath, dropped his head onto the older’s shoulder as he tried to ground himself and stop his urges from just taking his boyfriend right here, in the gym, where everyone could catch him. Not like he would mind, they better all know whose Renjun was. Though, that was his kink alone, not one they shared.

“Are you done yet?” He grunted, lips tracing against his boyfriend’s heated skin, leaving little kisses in their wake. From how tight they were pressed together already, he could feel Renjun’s racing heartbeat, could sense every hitched breath whenever his teeth dug into the sensitive flesh. 

His partner wasn’t, Jaemin was aware, they hadn’t finished their last set, and yet, in the heat of the moment, the older nodded his head from where it was still hung low. Fuck… He really loved Renjun so much. What a moment to have this realization, it had him chuckling, but it didn’t stop him at all from wrapping his arm around the other’s waist and hooking them under bare knees, picking up his boyfriend with ease. Just out of courtesy, he acted as if he didn’t notice the little moan slipping Renjun’s lips at that, never willingly admitting to manhandling being, indeed, a shared kink of theirs.

  


∑>――(;･◇･)ﾉ→

  


Jaemin couldn’t help hissing at the force that had his head reeling back, only because of Renjun’s annoying hold on his orange strands. For some reason, the older really thought this was the adequate way about expressing pain when the younger was kind enough to treat all his wounds. What a knee-jerk reaction. Was that really the way to thank him for even picking the older up downstairs to help him upwards and treating his wounds?

Poisonous words were ready on the tip of his tongue when his eyes fell on the older’s other hand, knuckles bruised from where the glove had been shredded by whatever means, possibly punching too hard or something too rough, fingers curled around the countertop and bones sticking out white. They had run out of painkillers recently, thanks to the older’s increased carelessness, and treating wounds without an anaesthetic surely wasn’t an easy treat. More so, it was quite a big wound, too. 

“They had dogs,” Renjun slowly started, when the younger’s eyes fell down onto the wound again. It was a bloody one, a long gash along the calf, pants shredded in a similar way to the gloves and already discarded of. Cleaning alone was a tiresome deed, so Jaemin had mostly given up on it already, and resorted to disinfect with betaisodona without wiping the blood off first. 

Silently, he readjusted the older’s grip from his head to his shoulder, permitting his mentor to hold on to him and dig his fingers as deep into his flesh and bones as necessary. It must be some sort of coping mechanism to Jaemin carefully spreading the wound apart to figure how deep it went, because the older forced out, “Nobody told me. And I can’t- I can’t possibly punch animals! So I just- Fuck! Shit! Had to run! Did you ever- Holy sh- ever try to run through a forest in- In the dark?”

It wasn’t as deep as he had first feared but it had scratched along a bigger vein, the main fault for the excessive bleeding. That did make it a bit more bothersome but not impossible to treat. 

“I did, actually,” he answered, ignoring the excruciating pain in his shoulder, and rinsed the wound with the orange liquid once again, before he went to stitching it up. “And I didn’t trip, unlike a certain somewhere.” He couldn’t stop himself from making fun of Renjun, not when, for the first time, he was presented with such a perfect moment to.

Whether it was due to the pain or an actual lack of retorts, the older was quite throughout the whole process of threading flesh together, applying salve and wrapping bandages. The leftover blood would become bothersome later, when Jaemin had to change the dressings in the morning but there was nothing to do about this now. Honestly, he just really hadn’t want to drag this out any longer than they already had, going through all of this without medication was painful enough, he didn’t need to prolong it. 

Gently, he placed the injured leg onto the counter to prevent an increase of blood flowing downwards and undoing all his efforts, and picked up on the bruised hand instead. With cotton swabs, he disinfected them, then applied some salve there, too. At this point, it was just a wonder Renjun hadn’t grown immune to antibiotics yet, with the mere amount they had to use them already. 

The other hand, as much as he had seen, was unscathed, spared from his further inspections, though, it seemed that didn’t apply for the reverse. Before he had realized, the older had pulled his shirt to the side, revealing the finger shaped bruises on his shoulder, the same offending digits who were at fault for this now caressing along the marks. 

“Sorry for that…” Renjun muttered, staring at the purpling flesh. It was as if there was an underlying meaning to their current situation and, no matter how hard he tried, Jaemin couldn’t make sense of it. Nevermind wrecking his brain into oblivion, he just didn’t catch on, and he was already too exhausted to let it get to his head. 

“It’s okay,” he simply smiled, rubbing along his mentor’s lower arm soothingly. “It doesn’t hurt much.” Softly, he patted the marred skin, and got up. “Do you want to shower? Then I’ll wrap your leg up properly.”

As a first reaction, Renjun only shook his head, quickly allowing words to follow, “Nah. I’ll just do a cat bath. But-” It seemed to take a lot of effort for the older to come up with the next words, nervously chewing around nothing in his mouth. “I might… Can you help me get to bed in a few?”

Slightly startled, the younger blinked for a moment, before reminding himself for the better to react before he’d risk getting his own calf sliced apart. “No… No, I don’t mind, no,” he smiled, not the least used to getting asked for a favor from his obstinate partner either. Somewhat jerky, he pointed at the door, and muttered, “Then… I’ll just wait outside and- yeah.”

Well, neither was it like him to get embarrassed over such a thing but apparently miracles worked outside Christmas too. Before the situation could get any more awkward, he fled the scene and leaned against the wall outside, trying to calm his heart racing fast at the idea of Renjun actually relying on him. What a thing to happen…

His head fell back, eyes gazing up at the ceiling with its blinding lights, as he just waited for time to pass, and Renjun to call him inside again. Nevermind bringing his mentor to bed, that wasn’t the bad part, actually. Mostly, it was just him supporting the other’s weight to relieve the burden on the injured leg, and taking care of all the unnecessary movements like turning off the lights or closing the closets. 

He was just about to pull the blankets high up over the older’s slighter frame when the same bruised hand caught onto his wrist, dark eyes drilling into his head from their intensity alone. “Hey, Jaemin,” Renjun started and, once again, sounded a bit more nervous than seemed justified, “Would you stay the night?”

It took the younger a few seconds to catch up with the seconds, making this scene definitely more embarrassing than it should be, and the Chinese must feel the same, laughing nervously. “To watch over the wound, I mean. You know, in case it starts bleeding… or something…”

“Or something,” Jaemin repeated, tongue darting out to wet his overly dry lips. With some effort, ignoring his racing heart all over again, he forced his mouth into a smile, and replied, “I’ll just go change and turn off the lights, okay?”

“Okay,” Renjun agreed, slowly, softly, and equally as languid was his movement of letting go of the younger’s wrist. And despite the blatant excuse, how could Jaemin possibly refuse the man he was most likely crushing on anyways?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to all who made it this far and I hope you did enjoy this so far. Part 2 is actually nearly finished so this shouldn't take too long either.
> 
> For any updates regarding my writings, I do have [twitter](https://twitter.com/starrymeis) and for any questions, my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/starrymeis) is always open too!  
> Usually, at this point, I would note random thoughts regarding this story but, for once, I don't think I have any? no thoughts, head only renmin assassins
> 
>  **disclaimer** \- I have no further knowledge of medicine, weapons, or whatever. All mentioned is taken from what I gathered from years of watching TV and reading, so forgive me any inaccuracies! If you want to correct me, please do so kindly and I'll remember it for the next time ♡
> 
> PS: @Lee, I hope you did enjoy this 😿


	2. Renjun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am here again, quickly updating this and finishing it for good! 
> 
> In contrast to the previous one, where there was great focus on Renjun from Jaemin's side, Renjun's focus is actually directed at murder. Thus, as a warning, I will point out it is a bit more graphic in descriptions than the first albeit not yet the worst I could do. Still, if you're sensitive, better not read it!
> 
>  **trigger warnings** \- mentions of murder and poison. (semi-)graphic depictions of murder. offensive language. mentions of sex but no smut. abduction, torture and according ptsd. guns, daggers, and other weapons. violence, fights, and blood. lots of blood.

There was a bunch of reasons as to why this felt so wrong, this very moment of coming home to his new apartment. Their apartment. Which was all the more wrong. Just stepping into it felt wrong, knowing it was not the familiar doorknob, wasn’t the familiar door, a different floor. With a sigh, he let his forehead drop against the wood. He didn’t even manage to fit his key into this darned hole thanks to it all being new and unusual. He was so very sick of changing homes again and again, he really wanted to yell at the JJ tag duo for making him go through this.

“Fucking sh-” Just about to drop his head against it once again, Renjun was instead met by empty air when the door opened without his doing, a deed that had him falling over nearly if not for the arms that caught him safely. A breathy giggle was projected right into his ear which didn’t exactly aid his already tense nerves.

With an angry grunt, he pushed the younger away, not caring whether it would send Jaemin stumbling or falling or whatever. His case for his new roommate was merely on a professional level, not personal. Jaemin might as well break both his legs and Renjun wouldn’t care, not for as long as a gun could be held, aimed, and shot.

“Feisty,” the newbie grinned, arms crossed, posture entirely cocky as he leant against the wall with his shoulder. It vexed the Chinese further, had his fingers itching to get rid of the other in less… bureaucratic ways, since that had already failed him. “Just how I like it.”

From beneath, Renjun glared at him, not looking at the shoelaces he was undoing blindly and with nimble fingers covered in red. The blood, that which hadn’t washed off yet, was darkening as it had dried on his skin and it cracked now, from the added movement. His job had been unnecessarily tiring, all thanks to his victim of the day not being able to keep still despite the relaxant agent infused through a drink. It had made his job of getting the information he wanted incredibly more tiring, not to mention how it had dragged on for longer as well.

“Jaemin, I swear to all things holy, if you don’t shut up right now and go to your room…” He pressed out between gritted teeth. Because that’s all he wanted for himself this night as well, some time to relax, a bit of peace and quiet. It must seem ironic, that someone with his kind of occupation was yearning for these things but some things simply were meant to be amusing in life.

A warm bath, a hot cup of tea, a good movie to keep him entertained as he cleaned his knives - it was all he currently desired. Not some little shit of a trainee to bother him as he just wanted to relax.  
The younger, unfortunately, was not as intimidated by him as seemed to be everyone else around him. It was a rather vague way of describing it when most people were just scared shitless of the Dream in general. Their name was nothing but dark humor, seemingly hopeful, an imitation of the hallucinations a sleep induced brain could come up with. Yet they were rather regarding eternal sleep with their name.

“I made food,” Jaemin spoke up instead, fingers combing through Renjun’s matted hair, “and cleared some more of the boxes but I didn’t dare touch some of your stuff. If you want, I can run you a bath while eating?”

If there was a moment he hated the newbie he hadn’t asked for most, it must be this current one. Irrationally so. He knew the normal thing was to be grateful for someone cooking for him or cleaning, he simply hadn’t been raised to be normal. 

With a grunt, Renjun tore from the other, putting some distance between them as he made his way to the kitchen, and asked, “How about training?”

“I didn’t get to tod-” The taller didn’t dare talk more, not when a hunting knife had shot past him and lodged itself into the doorframe, right on eye height. A few inches aside and it would have beautifully pierced that handsome face and dismarred it forever. It was tempting enough for the Chinese at the moment, drained from the day and aggravated, the only thing stopping him being the certain scolding he’d get from Doyoung instead or, worse, Johnny. At least Doyoung had a crooked sense of moral like the rest of them, contrasting the American who still was able to feel an ounce of shame for their doings every once in a while.

“First of all,” Renjun near growled, “You won’t ever again skip training. You can cook, you can clean, I don’t care what exactly you do in your free time - but you won’t threaten my reputation by not keeping up with your schedule for whatever lousy reason.”

There was some emotion sparking up in Jaemin’s eyes, one the older felt not acquainted enough with to decipher. It could be hurt about the harsh treatment despite having attempted doing a favor, might be upset for being treated like a child, could even be recognition of familiar ways. It wasn’t like Renjun cared anyways about a burden placed in his hands unwillingly. 

“Second,” the Chinese went on, eyes on his apprentice but hand reaching into the fridge for a bottle of juice, “I don’t like to run around in my sullied clothes. I’ll eat later.” For him, the conversation was done like that, but from the lack of movement as he grabbed his knife in the passing and the silence even as he went down the hallway, he figured it wasn’t the same for Jaemin. 

Not his problem anyways.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


Observations were something Renjun had grown used to, with time. Nothing was as inconspicuous as a little child watching the streets, and if that child took notes of arrivals and people, pressing the shutter on a camera already directed at the door across the street, surely no one would have paid attention to it.

The task, though, became harder throughout the years, more tiring. Their previous generation of leaders had retired and Doyoung had found it less useful to rent a whole house if they could just sleep in a van either way. If Renjun was lucky, he was put into a room put up on airbnb. Lucky applied only to the offered bed under these circumstances, for it was utterly stressful to have to cover the half a dozen weapons he had in his luggage when some stranger owning the house might walk in on him at any given time. But that, too, he grew used to throughout time. The several days spent mostly alone, hardly sleeping so he wouldn’t miss out on any sort of movement telling him more about his next victim.

Sometimes, he missed these times. Recently, stakeouts took a toll on him, albeit that might be blamed of this being the third time he had to do it in a row: sitting in a car, wrapped into a blanket, and observing the house from the different angles they had set up bit by bit. 

One might argue, if they had set up cameras, they might as well do this from an office or the likes and, truthfully, it would make things easier. Only their current stand of technology made this a challenge. For the cameras to be small enough not to be noticed easily, while still having a perfect resolution and with their charge lasting a good week, they had to trade in reach. Therefore, Renjun had to stay close by, but also just in case he was presented with the perfect opportunity of murder, cutting his stay short and knowing perfectly of all the traces he had to get rid of. 

A cold breeze wafted through the car when its door was opened, and seconds later Jaemin slid inside, two steaming paper cups in his hand. One held the disgusting stench of too strong coffee and the other the soothing aroma of tea. His stomach was protesting, heavily so, as his hand reached for the quintuple espresso or whatever abomity the younger had ordered, simply for the cup to be held out of his reach.

“You didn’t sleep for two days, Junnie,” the currently blond scolded silently, handing over the herbal tea, “And god knows how much sleep you missed out on before this. I don’t get how you’re still functioning like this.”

There was no answer Renjun could possibly offer up that his partner hadn’t already heard after two years of working together. What more was he supposed to say, rather than pointing out that this was his life, that he was used to it, that the times it wasn’t like this felt scary to him. Not being on his guard, not thinking of murder, of poison, of his beloved blades - those times had him feeling restless. Not the lack of sleep.

“You’re overworking again,” Jaemin sighed, and the disappointment and worry in his tone hurt the smaller more than any bullet through his heart ever could. This was something he hated about stakeouts, about being with Jaemin. Because the younger always worried about him, made him feel bad about living his life the way he did when they actually lived the same life.

Some days, it would get him upset. He still felt a bit disgruntled over the way the blond so blatantly ignored the purpose of their job, that they were supposed to keep track of their victim twenty-four/seven, not just enjoy their time with the excuse of cameras sending them footage anyways. Jaemin would have gone crazy with their old ways, with sitting at window sills and keeping an eye on foreign houses.

Today, though, he felt sentimental, and lenient. It might be faulted on the exhaustion he felt in his mind instead of his body. He could still hit ten people between the eyes from twenty feet away because it was ingrained in his muscle memory. Only one of them might end up being the person he was supposed to save, simply because his mind could no longer keep up with his body’s actions.

Four weeks of straight up observations and he felt exhausted. His showers had been cut down to a few, he used mouthwash more often than he could even glimpse at a toothbrush, and one week’s worth of laundry properly done had lasted him a month now. All due being unable to stay home in between assignments. Were it not for Jaemin, he wouldn’t even be able to eat on the regular, and depending on where he was stationed, he might as well have lived off bread and peanut butter for days. (Kun would kill him if he knew.)

“Tell that your beloved Jaehyunnie-hyung,” Renjun muttered. Venom was missing from his words when he had no more substance to build it from. His eyes darted down to the screen on his lap again, fingers curling around the thick paper to draw warmth from the tea. 

Winter was a shitty ass time to do a job like this.

With a little delay, more of it than he would like to admit to, he noticed the tablet being taken from his lap, held by bony fingers he had grown familiar with a tad too much already. Jaemin’s knuckles had become thicker, faced with an increased strain on the tissue and bone from the influx of fights, they had lost some of their prior elegance. Nowadays they looked quite different from Renjun’s own, whose fighting style was not relying on brutal strength. He had never suffered blisters and bruises and torn skin to the extent members of their rumored Joker squad had.

It seemed ironic to call them that way, when neither of them was psychotic and batshit like the comic figure but in a way, it still made sense. Joker. The ruler of the underworld, a malicious figured, feared by many and tormenting all the more. They just… were funny. Pranksters. Their common feature being to have intimidating muscles rather than some weird ass gas that motivated people to literally laugh themselves into death.

How it worked, Renjun had not yet discovered. Teenage him had been quite eager to find a way, and Kun had provided him with sufficient test objects. After too many failed attempts, he, too, had to close down his little lab. On the upside, they had been able to add one or two new poisons to their system that they readily made use of meanwhile. His personal favorite had been the one that seemed harmless at first, starting with a tickling sensation in the guts and ending with their airways collapsing from the increasingly aggressive and heavily manipulated gall rising up and burning the flesh from the inside.

Deft fingers caressed through his hair, playing with the strands and skillfully ridding him of the anger he felt bubbling up with his main task of the night being taken from him. His eyes were focused on the tablet for a few seconds more before they fixed on his partner instead. 

Thanks to the increased space that was the back of the car - seats taken out to be replaced by an even surface they could use as bed or lounging area - Jaemin could comfortably rest against the framing, legs stretched out and ankles crossed, a blanket covering his lap, he looked all sorts of homey. 

For a second Renjun allowed his imagination to run wild, to the sandy leather couch they had at home, the younger sinking into the abundance of pillows, old blanket spread across his lap to collect the dirt that came out of the guns he was cleaning, one by one. He was quickly brought back by a questioning hum from his partner, senses trained to pick up on even the slightest change in environment to avoid getting killed even when he found himself reduced to being a sleep-zombie.

Slowly, he shook his head, clearing the image from his mind to replace it with the burning heat of his tea on his tongue. “Nothing,” he muttered, and gulped down more of it. The liquid was scalding against his throat but by the time it reached his stomach, it had reduced to a cozy warmth, spreading around his guts. A moment’s time he was able to forget they were stuck in a turned off car in the middle of winter.

“Come here,” Jaemin beckoned, and Renjun wasn’t even allowed a second to reply had the younger already pulled him in. Trapped by strong arms and forced onto the other’s lap, it was all too easy to guess the blond’s lap. Immediately he tried to free himself.

“No, Jaemin, I-”

His words were cut short by a kiss, by their lips meeting tenderly, sweetly. It shouldn’t be like this, not when they were supposed to replicate a local serial killer’s method of murder in two days that included gutting the man only to choke him on his own intestines as they dangled him down the staircase in an absurd imitation of suicide. But it was, and Jaemin was not allowing him to breath, going from one tender kiss to another, and another, until Renjun thought he had drunk the coffee thanks to the lingering taste on his lips.

“I’ll keep watch, Junnie. You should rest.” A nice offer, generous, one the killer would instantly turn down if only he was allowed to. He hated it, that Jaemin knew all his weaknesses, all the ways to coax him into compliance, and in this current state, when his mind was already shutting down mostly, when only his body was still saving up energy, the younger knew what to do all the more.

Loving little kisses soon turned into lax prolonged ones. Aiding his thumb, Jaemin had already pried apart his lips to slip his tongue into the other’s oral cavern and Renjun, exposed to the sensation of another tongue rubbing slowly against his, slinging against his teeth and the roof of his mouth, could help releasing little whines and hitched breaths. Everything felt more intense than normally, albeit the lack of heat was making him drowsy. 

It was hypnotizing, in a way, carefully luring him in. The fingers tracing along his spine, the slick muscle teasing him into submission, the warmth that was another person’s embrace. Carefully, calculatedly, it had him give up on his awareness and consciousness. After months, he knew he could trust Jaemin to wake him up if need be, to keep watch in his stead, and it was past midnight. If nothing happened, for the next seven hours, nothing more than taking a piss would take place in this house. It further played into this, into a situation of being lulled in by his lover, until he couldn’t even bear holding his head up straight. 

Jaemin must have sensed it, cupping his cheek only to guide him downwards until his face was half buried in the hood of the younger’s sweater. After days, it didn’t smell nicely anymore, not of cologne, not of laundry detergent, not of deodorant. Instead, it was soaked by the younger’s essence, and it should disgust him. It would, if not that same scent of sweat was the same as after a mission, when they were high on adrenaline, bodies put through a tight workout, and his partner still pulled him in for a hug and a kiss. It was the scent of a stressed out Jaemin carrying him home after he had gotten injured, of Jaemin looking all hot after his gym routine, it was just… Jaemin. 

Humans were animals, relying on scents to find home and maybe, maybe because their biology fit together so well, maybe because he was just an idiot in love, maybe because he was a horndog after all, he did not mind it anymore as he was slithering into sleep.

  


  


“Five more minutes and the wife will take the kids to school,” Jaemin whispered, lips pressed against Renjun’s neck and - fuck! - this would be so much easier to process if the younger wasn’t grinding down against him at the same time. 

For sure, the Chinese had no problem abandoning any and all pleasure clouding his mind and distracting his body once he was let go of but the problem was, Jaemin had not yet released him. And it was Jaemin. Motherfucking Jaemin, of all people.

This had been way easier when he had first started doing things like these without about any member of their little organization, part of training, as they had called it. For him to be able to bear with any and all kinds of stimuli he had been going through a variety of things and up until a few months ago, he had thought the most distracting thing he could experience was Jaehyun manhandling him with raw strength. Their local flirt had been most to his liking, their kinks and interests aligning, but Jaehyun wasn’t Jaemin.

That boy simply had a knack for finding all his weak spots, for exploiting them shamelessly, and making use of Renjun’s distracted state. It was horrible, it was disgusting, and he wanted more of it. Possibly, after spending his whole life in this sort of business, he was just crooked in the mind. Shooting daggers and feeling triumph about the brains splattering around must be questionable, so perhaps this sort of self-torment was considerably normal.

“Jae,” he grunted, trying to move upwards but instantly he was pressed down by the other boy’s body weight. Blankets wrinkling beneath him dug into his back uncomfortably, his jeans felt too tight around his crotch, and they still needed to change. Getting into his work clothes under these circumstances seemed like utter torture. 

“Three.” The younger bit down on the junction between his neck and shoulder, shaking his whole body. Renjun found his hips gyrating upwards for more friction, had his eyes roll back before closing shut. Three more minutes meant he might as well go crazy with the blond on top of him, driving him into insanity.

Jaemin had been at it since a while now, pretty much since the older had returned from breaking into a nearby house to take a quick shower there and returned with dripping wet hair despite the winter chill. Today marked their last day of observation and yet, befitting the immaturity of the younger in terms of their shared profession, patience had run dry.

For days now - no, for weeks, actually - they hadn’t been able to get anything on. Too little space in their hiding spots, too little time at home, too much focus needed to be put into work, and Renjun hadn’t even considered blue balls a possible cause of death until this morning of having his partner hump him with way too much sensuality.

Thirty seconds left. 

Glancing to the side, he could see the mother shush her children into the car. Always on time, impeccable and unsuspecting, considering her husband was a drug lord with a faible for punctuality that bordered on suffering an OCD.

Twenty seconds.

The children were buckled up and the lady moved into the car.

Ten seconds.

Jaemin’s tongue invaded his mouth and battled for his attention.

Five seconds.

The car lights lit up.

One second.

The tyres started rolling.

Zero.

With a simple push, Renjun had Jaemin off him, the both of them lying on their backs and catching their breath for a moment. Making out for nearly half an hour was tiring, especially when one had a lover as relentless as the blond who was so eager to give and take and give while taking, there was no way it would not rob his lungs of all their oxygen. 

“I,” the older started, heaving out air, “hate you.” With a grunt he rolled over and then sat up, mindful of the low ceiling that came with being stuck inside a car. Outside, the wife’s car passed them but he didn’t care while looking for his work gear. 

Undressing in front of Jaemin had become normal, less because of their time spent together but more because Renjun couldn’t give a simple damn while he was stuck in a professional mindset. His sweats and hoodie were replaced by his leather pants and a thick turtleneck. Hunting knife stuck on his belt, gloves put over his hands. A hoodie, to keep his hair bound and a face mask to lessen the risk of his DNA getting anywhere. 

This one would be a tiring one. Drug lords weren’t exactly that forty year old geezer next door, ordering pizza at least three evenings a week and spouting a belly grown from drinking too much cheap beer. Furthermore, the serial killer they had to copy didn’t use any sorts of drugs to tranquilize his victims so they, too, would need to work with the moment of surprise. It was annoying, bothersome, and annoyingly bothersome. 

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Jaemin do the same. Exchange jeans and a sweater against a similar outfit as was Renjun’s, with all possible skin being covered by clothing that wouldn’t be easy to tear, protecting their skin from curious nails and any other sort of traces being kept out as well. 

“Don’t lie to yourself,” Jaemin suddenly started, looking at him from between face mask and beanie, eyes twinkling with mischief, “You love me.”

If Renjun had to be asked, his lover definitely deserved getting kicked out of the car in the way he did. It seemed better fit than any verbal reply ever could, and he even considered trampling over the younger on his way out but, unfortunately, he had to rely on Jaemin’s muscle strength to keep their victim down while he gutted them professionally. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, dumbass.” With a huff, Renjun sidestepped the literally grounded one, and started his silent sneaking into their desired house. Suburbs were nice for that reason, a lot of rat runs, little attention paid early in the morning, they could kill in blatant sight and no one would know. But, even better, most people were out, would not think much of their breaking into a house to commit bloody murder.

The idea alone had the blood thrumming in his veins. It must be what an exhibitionist must feel like, knowing they were watched, in blatant sight, committing forbidden deeds. To expose themselves in front of familiar or strange people, to show off their most vulnerable state. That’s how he felt committing murder in daylight, when everybody could see, when they could just walk in. But that was the crux of the story: no one did. Because people were selfish, egocentric, they didn’t care. 

Nearly it had him laughing out loud, tuned down to a simple huff as he crouched down in front of the back door of the house to unlock it without being seen. People were so naive, so gullible. No one would figure out how they had gotten inside because no one even suspected them having a copy of the key, and they got their hands on it quite so easily too. 

Murder, Renjun had figured early on, was better than any orgasm ever could be. Well, maybe, he re-evaluated as he glanced at his partner in crime for a second. There always was an exception to every rule, and his carried the name Na Jaemin.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


Missions without Jaemin seemed awfully boring, now that he hadn’t seen the younger in a while. It was haunting him now, in the dead of night, as he rolled around in bed only to end up on his side, looking at the other empty half. At this time, usually he would find the younger peacefully snoring next to him, jostling around until one of those unruly limbs came into contact with his own, and come morning, Renjun would find himself pulled into any sort of embrace, whatever their current positions had permitted. 

He had grown fond of the other, more than he’d want to admit, so suddenly having been sent onto a solo mission while knowing Jaemin must be rotting away at home in a similar way as he did in this rented room, it bothered him. There was no way to contact his trainee to look for comfort, the only phone he had with the numbers of his squad was reserved for emergencies or updates alone. Nobody wanted to be bothered with his sentimental shit in the dead of night anyways.

The job was no overly difficult one - observe his victim for a few days, find the right time to strike, and head back home. Further facilitated by the fact this study room he was staying at was not far away from his target’s house. Using the excuse of going for a smoke in the evenings or for a run in the morning, and he was growing accustomed to the lady’s routine. From thereon, it wouldn’t be too hard to find a time she was out of the house to sneak inside, slip something into one of her foods, and then stay until her death was reported at the police. Another week or so more and he could leave without drawing suspicions, perfectly in time with the ending of exams at the universities.

All in all, it wouldn’t take more than three weeks at most, which was also the problem. Before, he hadn’t had a problem staying alone for a time as long as this, when he had been more independent, hadn’t cared about any people around him because there simply had been none. His apartment was miles away from the HQ, the most contact he had with the others was via phone, or for meetings he had to attend. 

At that time, it had been easier. Now that he had been assigned with a trainee, someone who lived with him, was supposed to learn from him, and looked out for him, he had come to the realization he had become horribly spoiled. Jaemin was a mess, to sum it up. Somewhat skilled with a handgun but useless with the more silent techniques of killing, unfamiliar with medicine that sometimes turned into poison, unable to even hold a knife properly, loud as a clumsy oaf could be, and with an odd skill to run into chaos. 

Yet, Jaemin was also the one who treated all his wounds on expert level, who ran him a bath after strenuous days, prepared food to eat by the time Renjun came home, who always made sure all favorites were stocked up at home so it wouldn’t grate his nerves. It were all these smaller details that he missed now, when the only sound interrupting the silence was of a nearby train and the heavier traffic some blocks away.

Suddenly, Renjun found himself missing the younger’s sleepy mumbling, the kicking of blankets, the being replaced as a teddy bear. Surrounding by university books he wouldn’t even be able to understand, he felt lonely, as there was nothing else to fill the space around him. His eating habits pending between instant ramen and expensive restaurants, his methods of occupation reduced to a bare minimum, the only thing keeping him insane at these times had turned out to be Jaemin, in the end. And now, he, too, was not available as insomnia was kicking his ass.

With an annoyed grunt, he pushed back the blanket he had rested underneath, and reached for his last worn clothes instead. Indeed, going with the whole studying student scheme, he had not brought a bunch of finer clothes, mostly just sweats and shirts. A pair of proper slacks and a button down for those times he went out to the finer areas when he was all too tired of cheap food, something he kept to a minimum.

Sliding into his sneakers, he merely grabbed his phone and keys before going out, sneaking through the empty hallways to not wake any of those he was not affiliated. He was a murderer, yes, a ruthless assassin, but he felt pity with those slaving away behind desks, studying things they might never need. At least, the things he had been taught had always come in handy and had shaped life as he knew it, a far cry of what these adolescents were going through. 

The nightly air was chilling as it hit his face, sending Goosebumps down his back in its wake, refreshing in quite the cruel way. He was dressed too light for the weather and the occasion, yet he saw it as motivator. Keep running to warm yourself up, keep exercising until you won’t feel the heat, get back into bed before the temperatures catch up with you. That was his plan for this sleepless night, looking for some means to make these hours productive when sleep was already lost on him.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


During his upbringing, there had been a lot of unusual scenes he had grown into. Instead of crayons, he had been handed knives. Instead of legos, he had built bombs. Instead of playing with dirt, he had learned about deadly herbs. Something that must sound psychotic to others had been interesting to him, had become normal when everyone around him was taught the same yet not.

For example, Lucas had been repeatedly experiencing excruciating pain to make him more immune to it, had needed to jump down from higher and higher places to train sturdiness, until he naively had thought he could fly. Or Chenle, who had been handed animals to dissect rather than dolls to play around with. Growing up in an orphanage, between the few of them, and their slowly growing group, Renjun hadn’t really felt like the odd one out. They had just been… peculiar.

Now, he felt like the odd one out, looking at all these people happily running around the beach, splashing water here and there, throwing frisbees and balls. He just, he really couldn’t understand it. There were so many things to keep oneself occupied by being productive, by studying or doing work, he could still understand those trying to work out but some of these people, those that were just laying in the sun, waiting for skin tumor to build up in their skin, those he couldn’t understand. Even he was doing something proper, which meant a lot, considering his fingers were wrapped in bandages and making him halfway immobile still.

He was getting sick of all of this - sick of laying in the infirmary waiting for Kun to release him, sick of having to watch over his injuries so he wouldn’t tear the wounds open again, sick of being sent to the fucking Bahamas because, apparently, Doyoung had thought this was a reward. A vacation! He hadn’t had a single vacation in the twenty-plus years of his life but suddenly everyone was all up his ass because he wasn’t able to eat on his own with his fractured fingers, had been tormented by nightmares recently, and whatever else there was. It made him feel weak, and he hated to feel weak.

“It’s a miracle your nerves weren’t damaged,” he parroted Kun’s word with the most venom he could possibly put into his words. It wasn’t no fucking miracle when those who had skillfully unhinged each of his knuckles, cut open the skin, and torn out his nails had been professionals. Nobody wanted their little living chamber of secrets to die on them without having yet garnered all the information needed, after all.

Kun could suck dick, or just take his place underneath the blazing sun that couldn’t even be shielded by a sun shade anymore. The heat was aggravating, being high on painkillers was annoying, the bandages were a hassle, and no amount of pampering from Jaemin’s side could soothe him at this point. Six hours after checking in and he already felt like he was thrown into the raging flames of hell.

Speak of the devil and he may appear. “Injunnie!” His boyfriend yelled loudly, meaning to drown out the whole beach’s sounds, it seemed, and Renjun had half a mind to decapitate the younger with a frisbee before reminding himself he wasn’t even able to hold one. Looking over, though, his thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Jaemin was a menace sent upon him to torture him in the humane realms, that much he was certain of. With these looks he had grown more and more infatuated with, that charming smile that seemed befit for an idiot, lush hair not as affected by the dyes as was his own, his boyfriend was unfair in all the worst was. Things that were only further emphasized stepping out of the water, in what seemed to befit these slow motion lifeguard movie trailers: water droplets running down honey skin, dripping hair pushed back with one hand, eyes twinkling against the sun. It was one of those moments, Renjun was sure there were but two paths for him to choose from - kill him or fuck him. 

That, though, was only the superficial vision. Looking past all the glamour and beauty - and ignoring the women around ogling what was his - he was reminded this was not only a time off for him. It didn’t show in the obvious ways like dark circles under the eyes or the bandages he himself carried around his skin, it was more subtle, only meant for those who were already acquainted well enough with the younger’s body and, much to his fortune, that title belonged solely to him.

Having to look after him must have exhausted Jaemin more than he had let on, and Renjun couldn’t help the feeling of grief that overcame him at that. Taking care of him, mending him, the younger had needed to neglect himself a bit, and nobody must have seen before, or maybe it had just been him who had been blind to it. He saw it now, taking in his lover’s frame, the fading lines of previously sculpted muscles that, admittedly, had been his fault. 

For years, he had forced the younger into a rigorous training scheme and now he couldn’t even work out himself, he hadn’t had the energy to remind his partner of doing the same. On the contrary, he had needed to rely on his boyfriend so much, on the tight embrace he woke up to that kept his nightmares at bay, the hands feeding him breakfast, lunch and dinner first while Jaemin’s own got cold, the patience put into helping him with his stretches as that was the mostly only thing he could do to exercise himself recently. 

The swimmer stopped in front of him before his thought processes had caught up but, forced to look up at the standing one, Renjun couldn’t do more than mutter, “I’m sorry, Jaemin…” As good as he could do, he curled his bandaged fingers around their wet matches, trying to offer the reassurance he was incapable of. “I must have been a burden recently…”

Simply saying these words, it felt like poison on his tongue. He didn’t want to admit to his own weaknesses, confess that he had been, indeed, unable to do about anything recently, and no matter the amount of murders he had committed, he hadn’t yet been ready to face that same fate himself. Being tortured again and again, he had come to realise a few things, though, things he wanted to realize as soon as possible. One of them being that he hadn’t ever expressed his feelings for Jaemin well enough.

These few weeks ago, when he had admitted to his nightmares, he had felt horrible enough. Being unable to sleep, tossing and turning around, it wasn’t new to him, only that usually it was for his inability to fall asleep. Not because he had been afraid of what might anticipate him once he closed his eyes, whether it wouldn’t be for good, then. 

He knew the things their members had done for him were normal, he would have done the same for them and it was just what their profession entailed. Some burdens Jaemin had taken on, though, weren’t within the range of that what they were supposed to do. Being partners alone wasn’t enough of a reason to endure all his pent up emotions in these times of being overwhelmed, and it was because they were more than partners that he felt bad for having not had better control of himself. 

Wet fingers combed through his hair, caressed along his evident roots from where he hadn’t redone his own bleaching ever since the incident. “Don’t hurt us both by saying that, Injunnie,” the younger soothed him, and Renjun willingly let his weight fall forward against his boyfriend, upper body colliding with bare thighs, his face pressed into the side of Jaemin’s hips. “Being sentimental doesn’t suit you. I like it more when you cuss me out while I change your dressings.”

A wet chuckle escaped him at these words, muffled by the soaked swimming trunks his lips were in contact with, tasting of salt and the sea. “You’re a masochist, Jaemin. One ugly… masochist…” Underneath all his different layers, he considered, the greatest role he had ever taken on was that of a liar, and lying to himself he could do best. Taeyong, instigator of this trip, must have seen it long before him, that he hadn’t yet healed, but he hated that it had taken but a few gentle words from Jaemin to make him break all over again. “I hate you, Na Jaemin… I really hate you…”

But the fingers never stopped combing through his hair.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


Darkness had always been rather forthcoming for his kind of profession, in more ways than one, and Renjun had become familiar with it. There was something thrilling about being out at night, hearing all these noises that were usually drowned out by busy daytime routines, the buzzing of electricity, the steps made by the people nearby. Simply the way each and every of his senses seemed to be heightened, it was what he took delight in the most. 

Silence normally lent him a helping hand at moments like these, when he had to be aware of everything happening around the homes he broke into, be it whether a pet would rouse its owner, a child might wake up, or some guards were running closer. Noises were so easily caught when people weren’t aware of the rumor they caused, didn’t avoid it like he had been trained to. People like him, trained to stay in the shadows, unmoving, not caught, knew what to look out for. Alas, it did not apply to everyone within the field.

A shattering sound echoed behind him, not one they could possibly disregard, and his fingers had curled around one of his knives before he had even turned around. In his mind, a dozen possibilities to stage murder now went off, deviating from their original plan, for the easiest way to kill a man was by the simple way of injecting air to their bloodways. It was so easy, so blatant, no one looked for it after the diagnosis had run for heart failure and those who didn’t wouldn’t be able to deduct anything anyways. Too obvious a way to kill, about anyone could do that, making it hard to be traced down.

As his eyes met the culprit, though, it was not a high skilled bodyguard as he had nearly hoped for, finally something that would pose a challenge. Much to his chagrin, it was his own adjunct, Jaemin sheepishly smiling at him and starting blazing fires of ire within Renjun’s guts. What could he possibly have done wrong for Doyoung to punish him like this?

His grip tightened around the knife he held, the fleeting thought of just getting rid of his personal nuisance right this moment, when heavy footfall interrupted his thoughts. “Fuck,” he gritted from between his teeth. Fuck Jaemin and doing any possible thing to ruin his peaceful life with his inept ways, attracting the attention of all the guards he had meant to avoid.

There was a reason people like him were hired to get rid of the leaders of crime syndicates, people who moved with the shadows, silent even when dressed in old-fashioned armor and, trust him, he could do that, had learned to move with the noise level of a snake even when dressed in a hauberk. People didn’t hire the kinds of Jaemin, who was idiotic enough to break a vase standing on a sideboard and, successfully, ruined their silent entry.

Throwing himself to the ground, he slid the few feet over to his trainee who took a hit to the back of his knee to send him stumbling down. Just in time for a few gunshots to be let loose, aimed at their prior position, and Renjun quickly dislodged the knife from his hand before rolling to the side. Bullets were quicker than daggers, they would easily enough catch up to him despite the delay of tracing his movements. 

The room’s door they had come through just seconds ago was still open, allowing him to take cover behind it and screw the silencer onto his gun without disturbance. A thing he regretted doing the next moment when glancing to the side. Jaemin, that idiot, must have twisted his hand, incompetent even in the arts of proper falling to injure his wrist, clutched to his chest, as he remained out in the open.

“Stupid fucker,” he cursed once again, his body reacting on instinct as he threw himself into the hallway once more, hand reaching for another dagger to throw to get rid of one more attacker when his gun was temporarily useless. A suppressor being fastened only halfway through before firing a gun and its possibly lessened safety wasn’t something he wanted to try out himself, forcing him to resort to the more basic methods of elimination.

With one less attacker aiming at them, their bullets were reduced to a half, and Renjun was allowed to kick Jaemin into the safety of the parlor before he went for the guards with bare hands. Just get them off their aim, force them to the ground, disarm one and shoot both. It was easy enough, more so, the element of surprise was always on his side. Stupid fellas getting trained only in shooting combat recently, they didn’t anticipate close quarter attacks anymore, becoming easy prey for him.

What must have taken less than four minutes altogether had left a bloody mess on the wooden floor, puddle spreading and slowly soaking into the profile of his boots. The gun was still in his hands as he made his way to Jaemin, crouched against the sturdy wood of the door and evidently rattled by the events. Renjun simply dropped him his personal gun, the one with the halfway screwed on silencer, and ordered, “Fasten it. Shoot those who come. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The squelching sound of his boots slowly turned silent as he made his way through the house, this time, not really caring about whether or not he would wake anyone. At this time, it was already too late. There had been too much noise, too loud sounds, and only those who were drunk or drugged could possibly sleep through this.

Floorplan memorized, he made easy work of finding his way to the master bedroom, annihilating any more guards stepping into his way and, truly, there were a lot. It was why he hated drawing attention in such busy houses, more armed men around than there were drinks in the fridge, and each of them horndogs of built men, brain cells lost on anabolic drugs, useless dogs who only knew to obey commands. They were weak because they didn’t think, and while it was a hassle, it brought him pleasure to rid this planet of these pests.

The owner, he hadn’t bothered to remember the name when he had been ordered to treat this like a quick job, lacking stakeouts, making greater planning useless, was already greeting him with a gun at the ready. Might as well have handed a kid one, bad as his aim was. It didn’t hit Renjun in vital places but his bullet, dislodged from the stolen gun, very well did, finding home between the old man’s eyes. Maybe glasses would have prevented missing his shot and ended the killer’s life before his job was finished. Maybe.

By the time he returned to Jaemin, making his way to the massacre that this household had turned into, he had stitches in the sides, making every step comfortable. Blood was soaking through his clothes that he didn’t pay further mind to when he had so much blood on his gloved hands as well. It was only when he arrived by his trainee’s side, saw the shock in those wide eyes, that he questioned it. “What?” He asked, eyebrows drawing into a frown. 

“Your side…” The younger looked flabbergasted, like one would after having seen a ghost, and the gun looked shaky being held by those nimble fingers. 

Confusion still marred his expression as Renjun followed the other’s gaze, tracing it to his glistening side. He always had known these bulletproof vests were bull, and now, after a shot had forced its way to where his sides were covered only by fabric, he realized why. And why he had felt the stitches ever since he had left Jaemin behind. There was a tear in his pants, too, and he had to realize, maybe that old geezer had known how to somewhat shoot. Maybe he would have been successful had Renjun not ran high on adrenaline. Maybe. They wouldn’t ever know.

For another second, he looked at his wounds before his eyes were directed at Jaemin. His hand came down on the younger’s cheek in a rough slap, leaving a bloody mark on honeyed skin. It did its job in having the less injured focus on him. “Listen up,” he started, already making his way to the front door, no longer caring, “Get the car. Call Doyoung and tell him to delete the CCTV. You know first aid so do that shit. There’s blood bags in the freezer in my room if you need any.” 

Talking was getting harder the further he went, had him nearly kissing the grass once he got outside. He felt cold despite it being the middle of the summer, and that was never a good sign, it meant his body was going into overdrive, losing too much blood too fast. Still, he could hear Jaemin scampering off to get their car so the least he himself could do was to stay awake. From experience, he could tell his time was limited, regardless of whether it was any major injury or just muscle that had been penetrated, time was working against him. 

Pain wasn’t his biggest problem at the moment, he hardly felt it, conditioned into just blurring it out, pushing it back of his conscious, anything to keep him going forward on his path of being an unrelenting war machine. After all, that’s what he had been raised to do. The thought alone had him cackling, it was something he could hold on to as he undid his belt, gun holster falling down where it was no longer supported and the garter belt would have surely slipped down his thigh if not supported by latches. With all his remaining force, he tied the leather around his leg, cutting off the blood flow above the wound, regardless of his vision already flickering, stars dancing in front of his eyes.

From there on, he hardly took notice of anything, neither of falling nor being picked up, didn’t know how he had gotten into the car albeit he could feel the pressure of speeding tighten around his chest as he was pressed into the cushioned seat. Could also be shock, though, making breathing harder for him by now. Ten would have already complained about the leather, and the memory had him grinning. Trust his brothers to be as bonkers as he was.

The lights changed, from dark and colorful to bright and yellow, interrupted only by gushes of red, and his senses were working on bare minimum effort by now. There was a voice in his ears, words a fucking mess he couldn’t make sense of, unlike that moment he felt pills forced past his lips. That was easy. Swallowing some random stuff wasn’t hard. Though, he wished he hadn’t, for next thing he knew, his head was empty, as if his thoughts were vacuumed away, and his vision went black.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


There was a seductive kind of lull to knowing that nothing more was scheduled for the day, that he had achieved everything he had wanted to achieve for the day - training finished in the morning, studies down, mission protocols handed in - and he was therefore allowed to just relax. In his case, it meant to clean all his knives again, look for any faults in the blades that would need further inspections, redo the dressings around the handles that wore off after being exposed to not only blood but also sweat, water and soap. 

From the kitchen, the sweet scent of baked goods wafted over and, for once, Renjun had gone easy on his trainee. After their joint morning exercises, and demanding his boyfriend to do some shootings, he hadn’t insisted on a second or, worse, a third round for the first time in a while. It was also for selfish interests, it had been a while they had had a day like this, a day of taking care of their weapons and themselves.

On the other side of the couch, Jaemin had already spread out an old blanket, cleaning tools at the ready and the first patch of guns nicely spread out. It wasn’t the weapon he, personally, had the highest regards to, for anyone could pull the trigger on a gun and watch a bullet dislodge but, he had to admit, it fit Jaemin. Fingers curled around the handle, pointer pulling the trigger, there was some sort of aesthetic delight drawing him in, so he hadn’t further protested, neither demanded for his partner to pick up a second weapon.

All of Dream had done that, looked for a specialization outside their working criteria, which clearly set them apart from their 127 brothers who were focused on one thing, and one thing alone. Like Johnny, Jaehyun and Taeyong, who had evidently put their eyes on combat, whereas Yuta had taken a better liking to psychological warfare and at times it was funny to see it, logic clashing with psychology, Yuta against Doyoung. Jungwoo and his undercover personas were not to be taken lightly, a hundred ears all over the underworld, he was a threat. Yet, they feared Dream alone, and that was also part of their intention.

On the other hand, looking at the stitches currently decorating his arm, it might be better he didn’t force Jaemin down the combat path too much. They complemented each other that way, poison and medicine, cruelty and tenderness, killer and healer. In its absurdity, it made him smile. Back then, he hadn’t trusted Doyoung’s promise of this playing out well for the both of them but… maybe he had changed his mind. A small change and yet, he did feel happier, more satisfied with his life as it was now compared to before, which had little to do with his brain and all with his heart.

“What’s got you smiling like this?” The knife was plucked from his grip by no one else but Jaemin and his protests died down when instead a plate with fresh pie was pressed into his hands. “The thought of murder again?”

“Murdering for your treats,” he admitted easily enough as his eyes traced Jaemin’s movements of settling onto the couch, in the designated corner. It was adorned by more pillows than one might need but that, too, was the charme of their home, their styles complementary as were their habits. 

For example, there was their living room: it had been empty before, stuffed with books about plants, botanics, medicines and chemicals, bare not because of a lack of content but meaning, nothing more than a working space; nowadays, there were little pictures hung up, mementos of their many undercover personalities adorned with their fake names and reminders of all the places they had been to. It still made him mad at times, to know there was so much evidence of what they had done already, easily blowing their covers, making it a simple job to trace their tracks, nevertheless, he couldn’t possibly deny Jaemin. Nor himself, because these pictures made him happy, too.

Priorly, he had only owned a lounge chair for himself, something cozy to reside in as he read or cleaned his daggers that had quickly been replaced by a bigger couch with all the many pillows and blankets. Surely it would look more homey if there weren’t three dozen daggers and knives hung up on the wall it was resting against but in life, deals had to be made, compromises beared with.  
The pie, stuffed with cherries and tipsied brioche, was nothing short of delicious, and gone in a matter of seconds where Renjun was concerned, and while he knew of his partner’s sweet tooth, he wasn’t quite the same. One piece, that was enough, and he could focus on his own weapons again.

By the time he had finished, it was already near sunset, all blades cleaned, dressings changed, weapons hung up on their spots again, and his eyes shifted onto Jaemin instead. Meticulous with any handy deed, the younger took his sweet time, making sure every gun was perfectly cleaned so no piece of dirt might cause a recoil of the unfortunate kind. Just knowing his partner was like this, reliable when needed, looking out for the small things, it sufficed to put him at ease, too. 

Watching Jaemin like this was nearly hypnotic, more calming than a cup of tea ever could, more reassuring than any words would possibly be. If this was the effect of a lullaby, he wished he had felt it years prior, before he had objectively gotten a bit crooked in the head. But happiness, be it sooner or later, shouldn’t be judged by its placement, it was working or not, that was its only criteria.

His infatuation reached deeper as well, made him feel like these housewives in suburban soap operas, falling in love with a man who could cook or clean or, simply, was rich. Sure, all that did apply to Jaemin but so did it to himself, meaning eventually, the trait that made Renjun consider spending the rest of not only his career but also life with the younger, was the mere fact guns suited him. That alone had his eyes darting down to those careful hands, and his thoughts drifting entirely elsewhere in accordance.

“Enjoying the view?” Jaemin’s teasing voice startled him out of his reveries and, feeling the heat on his cheeks, Renjun defiantly refused to look at his boyfriend. In lieu, he grabbed his earlier used plate and the excuse of craving tea to just ditch and dash. A teasing Jaemin was entirely too much for him to handle which - unreasonable! He hadn’t been taught the arts of seduction only to fall prey to those very same means!

Water bubbled in the electric kettle by the time the younger caught up to Renjun who could feel the warmth of another body press against his, hands bracketing his hips and pulling him backwards until their frames were flush to each other. Like puzzle pieces, they fit together, and it made him ready to just squirm out of the hold he had been forced into if not the lips pressing against his neck had him slacken immediately. There was something irrefusable about Jaemin and the little caresses given by him, it made it impossible for the smaller to pull back.

Right the opposite, he didn’t dare to protest when sneaky fingers slipped beneath the stolen shirt adorning his own body, nor when those very same lips became more demanding and pressed against his, and the least when he was commanded to go to the bedroom first. Na Jaemin was a menace, his menace, and also his final weakness. By the time his lover was torn out of his grasp, out of reach forever, Renjun was certain there wouldn’t be a single last thing to stop him anymore. Not when this love he felt had turned out to be his most important blessing of the recent years.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


If anyone asked Renjun about which were the worst jobs to possibly take on while going undercover, he definitely considered waitering as the worst of them all. Be it a bar, a restaurant or a club, the people were always the same and be it for alcohol or money, they were always snobby and entitled and believing to be right when, clearly, they weren’t. It was driving him insane again and again. 

It definitely didn’t happen that this night Jeno and Hyuck decided to attend the restaurant he was assigned to, be it as back-up since today marked the climax of his job, or the mere fact the tan boy wanted to make fun of it. Scratch that, he was certain it was the latter because Donghyuck had put forth one too many complaints to be considered coincidence. 

Slowly and surely, it was driving him insane, and he felt as if his perfect customer smile was also slowly failing him, only he wasn’t allowed to release any of his lesser thoughts when, cherry on top, the shift manager was around as well. After an incident some days ago, Renjun had already received a yellow card, regardless of his thinking that getting harassed and fondled by an elder lady was not right under any circumstance. The customer is king be screwed. It was exactly why he hated this industry so much.

One of his colleagues - heavens, he hated this guy… - signaled him another bunch of guests had arrived, and Renjun had already feared he might have to struggle with his picture perfect customer smile, easily replaced by true joy realizing his latest target had arrived. The geezer was a regular at the restaurant, easily allowing him to slip bits of poison into the wine again and again, until the old fatty would die of… whatever. This time around, he hadn’t bothered asking Chenle about the details for the younger had always delivered well. 

With his lightest possible tone he tended to the table, effectively charming that geezer’s daily accessory a bit before he went to fetch their drinks, order already ingrained to his brain. Another set of guests had arrived, a surprisingly big sized group considering the price and location of the restaurant, yet one look at their suits and the answer presented itself, just another bunch of businessmen wanting to show off. They could either be the easiest of people or the most tiresome of the night. Not like Renjun cared, this area was not one he had to cater to anyways. 

He was just about to place down a tumbler when his ears picked up on an all too familiar voice, sounding from afar, part of the newly arrived group. These men he couldn’t care about any less, it was just this voice, and before he realized, the glass had slipped his fingers, landing spot on on the more fragile water glass, shattering apart at the impact, noise instantly calling for attention. For a moment there, the noise seemed to freeze, silence engulfing the room, the kind of mistake that should not possible happen at a restaurant of this standard.

Somewhat startled still, Renjun bowed and muttered apologies, faking his condolences for the incident. The geezer was more lenient than his living accessory who the waiter easily ignored. What a blessing he hadn’t yet served any food or this would turn out to be all the more of a disaster. 

Quickly he collected the still intact tableware to carry away, placing the folded and soaked tablecloth on top of the plates. What a blessing the person was who had decided to put a foil on the underside of these spreads, preventing them from tarnishing every single layer. Once more he muttered his apologies, ignored that the geezer’s hand was a bit too close to his ass as it patted him in reassurance, and quickly scurried away.

The barkeeper gave him a merciful smile and accepted the tray to clear away whilst another with new drinks and another cloth had already been set out. Across the room, Renjun stared at the very reason for this accident, only to meet eyes with Jaemin’s heated ones, tracing his every move. What a coincidence this was, and he truly hated coincidence, wouldn’t even believe it was one normally, just like it wasn’t one with Jeno and Hyuck coming by. Jaemin was an idiot, not a bully, though, and surely hadn’t even known about Renjun working here. It even was a wonder their other two members had found him regardless of Doyoung’s belief in secrecy being the key to it all. 

Having set the table anew, he assured his target the drinks would be on him this night as a sign of his sorry feelings, the ones he promptly wanted to take back when that same treacherous hand caressed along his thigh all too intimately. By all things murderous, he sure hoped whatever concoction Chenle had come up with this time around would lead to a painful death. That pervert sure deserved it. 

The incident was quickly forgotten, he went back to scurrying through the restaurant, and he would have continued so if not for the hand holding onto his arm in passing. His arm jerked, instinct to punch the offender barely so suppressed, as he put on his kindest smile and turned around. It faltered the moment he spotted Jaemin a few feet away from him, although not the one to hold on to his arm. Fuck, really. The last time he had seen the younger had been in bed, naked, the morning after, before he had left without a word. Had he even left a note? He couldn’t remember.

His eyes darted at the businessman still holding on to him, withholding any semblance of murder, and asked, “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” Ever so slightly, his fingers twitched, wanting to retreat his hand, an impossible deed for as long as he wasn’t released willingly.

“Yeah, actually,” the man grinned, and Renjun already knew, could sense it right this moment: this meant trouble. “You’ve caught my fancy, young man. What do you say? Don’t you want to earn some extra?”

A bit down, Jaemin crinkled his napkin on the table, the most aggression either of them was allowed, gazes meeting for only a moment there. Knowing there was no way to turn a man like this down, someone used to just getting whatever desired, regardless of means, Renjun put on his most apologetic expression, and said, “I’m afraid I can’t do this, sir. My health might trouble you a bit afterwards.”

Instantly, the old geezer let go of his arm like burnt, and the supposed waiter bowed down in another apology. Hyuck’s gaze was burning hot on his back, curious about what exactly was playing out there, maybe worried about both their covers, but Renjun hardly cared. He just wanted this shift to end already, to be allowed to go home and kick his bedpost in lieu of all these men. 

When he heard the rustling of a stool against the carpeted floor, he was already halfway down to the bar, passing by the hallway leading towards the bathrooms, when he was pushed exactly into that direction. No sound of protest escaped him at that, on the opposite, all too eagerly he dragged Jaemin along, through the door, into one of the generously sized stalls, and groaned into the kiss he received. A thump echoed when the younger pressed him up against the wood, claiming his mouth like a starved man eating. They probably were, both of them.

“Please,” Renjun gasped as they parted, as Jaemin went down his neck, and clumsily popped open two of his buttons to direct his lover to where his skin would be hidden, “Just kidnap me or something. I want to kill them all…”

“I’ll do it,” the younger offered, all so readily, and it had him snorting for a moment. The brunett might be a killer but not a murderer, jealousy was not enough of a motivation for his lover to kill. Still, the sentiment moved him. “What are you doing here anyways?”

A moan delayed his answer, but he quickly pressed out, “Job…” 

If getting so sensitive after being two weeks apart from Jaemin was a permanent side-effect of being apart from his partner, no way would Renjun readily do that again. A few moments only and he already felt like putty in calloused hands sliding up and down his sides, his ass, his thighs, roaming wherever they could reach. But the final straw was hot breath traveling up his neck, lips pressing against his ear, and his act faltered as the other whispered, “You look so put together like this, princess, it makes me want to ravish you. So innocent, so proper, I want to cripple them all for touching you.”

The compliments made him feel heated for different reasons, shyness a feeling that had been foreign to him until Jaemin, and he truly hated the other for that. “Two weeks,” he gasped, and quickly cupped the taller’s cheeks to pull him in for another messy kiss. Time was running out on him, his brain not able to come up with an excuse to tell, the thoughts robbed from his mind. 

“Two weeks,” his lover repeated, just as short of breath as Renjun was, already parting from their embrace to step out of the stall. One quick look into the mirror, and he was gone again. No matter the distance, he didn’t miss out on Donghyuck’s amused and Jeno’s worried expressions, though, no one else seemed to have noticed. 

He was just about to return to work when Jaemin crept up on him again, lips brushing his ear once more, and demanding, “Pass by my table some more often, princess. I need something to cleanse my eyes.”

Too bad Renjun couldn’t punch his partner right now, or he would have readily beaten that shameless act out of the younger. Instead, he was left with his guts twisted in all the wrong ways at the mere sight of Jaemin’s charming smile. He really hated that guy’s guts, would love to use them for a good strangle already.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


Cold hit him from above, in a violent splash of icy water being poured over his head, and it did its effect in waking him from his drowsiness. His consciousness was slowly faltering from relentless pain and exhaustion, an unhealthy combination, mostly to his mind. The longer this dragged on, the greater his yearning for safety, enough so for his brain to play tricks on him. In his little daze, he had even imagined to have Jaemin’s voice, a sweet echo still lasting and-

Piercing his ears was his own scream, released pathetically when pressure was applied to the raw flesh of his fingers, the three middle ones at once. His body went rigid with tension and the heat racing up his arm thanks to the pain was starkly contrasting the cold seeping through his clothes and clinging to his chest and back.

Breathe through it. Just breathe through it. That was the bare minimum he could remember, trying to focus on the sensation of droplets running down his skin, dispatched from his hair. It was the lesser of two evils, wouldn’t draw too much of his focus to what would come after this unlike looking at his wounds would. Sometimes he wasn’t certain whether the more harmless thing was to get injured, considering how tricky some healing processes could be.

Tightly, he gritted his teeth together, and tried to gather his thoughts again. Pain could pass. It would pass. Eventually, pain would be the thing to keep him alive, and as long as he was able to deal with all of this, they wouldn’t kill him. What a sick thing to draw delight from, the mere fact his saving grace was the reason he was abducted in first place. 

“You know,” the voice he had already grown familiar with asked, a man barely twice his age, with about as much mercy in his eyes as one of Yuta’s comics would have color, “this could end so much faster if only you told us what we want to know.”

Pain keeps us alive. Pain keeps us alive. Pain keeps us alive. Pain keeps us…

Like a mantra, his teacher’s words raced through his mind. Not exactly the best time to remember that sick fucker and yet, ironically, there was no better moment to. The old geezer had been just the same, drugged him, made him delirious, beat him, kicked him, punched him, anything that wouldn’t kill him just to teach him what true pain was. As long as he felt pain, he was alive, and as long as he was alive, he could find. At least, so his instructor had thought, before being killed of by a rampant gang. 

They had just passed by, a bunch of drug dealers not interested in human trafficking, running into secret hideouts. It sounded like a bad movie but it was the truth. They had been children, they hadn’t known better back then, but as he had taken his first lungful of freedom, he had found the world tasted different. Nearly, he could taste the sunshine on his tongue, the brightness of it kissing his face, and as he closed his eyes this time, it was overshadowed by Jaemin greeting him home. Oh, what wouldn’t he do to see Jaemin right now…

“Hey… Hey! Asshole, he’s passing out again-”

  


  


With a jolt, he came to in his chair, and this time he was alone in the room. Not for the first time, neither for the last. Even dungeon masters needed to take a break, and he wasn’t even talking about the game right then. His head lulled forward and his eyes fell onto the colorful plaster on his thigh. Ah, they had resorted to that method now…

A grin spread on his lips as he looked down at the covered wound, the tube leading down from it and towards the ground, where blood was slowly but steadily pumped onto the ground. It was wet around his feet and it would only be less disgusting if it weren’t his. Blood loss, at least, was something he could deal with. Tearing out the IV, albeit he could, would end up doing more damage than good, the wound would still be there, and he would still bleed. Only then his underwear would be soaked indeed and that he’d rather spare himself of. 

Blood loss was better than pain, at least. It made him delirious, yes, but there was no bothersome pain with the annoying side-effect of a sore throat or strained jaw. His fingers, too, had been treated before they’d infect and he might die of blood poisoning, an embarrassing sort of death for any torture master. In his current state, it was even funny to see the orange markings of where they had messily spread the betaisodona and perhaps rubbed some antibiotic salve into his wounds. Correct that, they had also added some painkillers, based on the numb feeling he got from his fingers. How funny…

This is why he hated torture. Until he parted his lips and told what they wanted to hear, they would injure him and patch him up, starting the circle anew and make him suffer. All throughout, they would promise him salvation, if only he moved his tongue and if he did and his information was proven to be correct, he would be rewarded with a bullet between his eyes. Not exactly the kind of ending he was going for. He had anticipated something more dramatic, like being blown up or the likes. That would be a way to go to his liking. Way cooler than being trapped by some assholes.

  


  


His screams echoed through the room as the knife seamlessly cut along the length of his pinky, down the side of his hand, until it stopped at his wrist. Blood was wet in his hand and his hand was positively coated in it, a metaphor, for he was a killer and master of torture himself. 

It took him longer to recover recently, with how little he had slept in the recent days, how little he was fed. The IV meant to let him bleed to death had been replaced with another at his clavicle, first dropping fresh blood into his system again, then a drip solution to keep his body at pay and functioning despite his lack of stomachable food. Alas, he had to give it up to them, they at least knew how to make it as hard for him as could be considered possible, as it slowly tore him to shreds inside out. Yet he had not reached the stage of insanity, neither was he certain he was a hundred percent okay anymore.

“Just give away the identity of your 127, won’t you? Then all of this can finally stop, hm?” As tempting as the offer was, clearly they hadn’t spent time with Jaemin yet. If anything could be considered as seduction on two legs, it should be his boyfriend with all his appeal and growing sexiness. What he wouldn’t give to see Jaemin right now…

“What did he say?” The second torturer asked, and it nearly had Renjun laughing. What kind of subordinate would question their superior while on duty? Was this guy suicidal? Supposed they didn’t know each other yet, such move was highly risk, and quite daring nonetheless. 

“I don’t know, idiot! Listen better then we’d know!” The first said, the older one, but the last word was hardly audible thanks to an explosion somewhere else. Too distant to hear all of it but too near not to feel it rattle the structure of the building. Man, someone really brought the big guns…

Letting his head drop backwards, he took in the panic on those two guys’ faces, satisfaction immediately overcoming him. Sure as fuck his hand still hurt, and from the way blood was dripping from the cuts, already thinned down from earlier blood loss and the IV, he was certain it would gnaw at him soon, nevertheless, a grin spread on his lips as he took in their panicked expressions.

“One,” he breathed heavily, could already sense the corners of his vision flicker, “I said ‘Jaemin’. Not the guy behind 127, in case you’re wondering.” Because, what a faux, 127 currently was a masquerade made up of eight people, not just one. “Two, he is your biggest mistake ever.” 

Never leave behind any traces, as they said, or it would bite you in the ass later on. In this case, it meant one had gotten away, and Jaemin was so undeniably stubborn, meticulously looking out and for him. There was no way their seniors wouldn’t look for him, his partner had simply sped up the process. 

“Idiots…” He muttered, eyes darting between their confused gazes before the pressure on his chest became too tight. Coughs shook him up, had him toppling over, and the spit falling from his lips was no longer transparent but solid red. Shit… “You better… run…” 

Breathing became challenging, he had nearly forgotten about the few kicks he had taken earlier. Huh, the blood loss really got to him already… His vision was hazy and black crept up over him again, straining his eyes as he tried to focus on something, anything. 

Another detonation had dust raining from the ceiling, and it assured him of a suspicion he had already had, namely of being locked up in the basement. What a sad stereotype of a movie impression, always did they put the torture chambers into the basement. For what, even? Putting them higher up, they could elevate the floor and put a proper drain into the cavity, screw a hole into the outside wall and - tada! - cleaning would be so much easier. Buried beneath earth, it was more like a silent invitation for the mold to come in. Beginners. Everybody checked the basement first, too. They had simply dug their own grave.

A salve of bullets was released somewhere, hard to tell where exactly but Renjun wasn’t about to question that either. Main point was, they got closer, to him, and he really needed them to hurry up, because he was already sobbing from the strain that was to stay awake. At this point, he only trusted Kun in taking care of him, and Kun was heavens knew where… If this ended up being a tight call, he’d make sure to beat his brother to hell and back.

Any noise seemed like a distant fanfare already, and his vision was blurry, impossible to make out more than the blaring grey of the room he was locked up in. They always kept the torture devices behind their victims, it made a far greater suspense than laying them all out. The latter worked on the innocent, normal civilians, intimidated by that sight but those with experience, to them it was an aid, gave hints of what they should prepare themselves for. Secrecy was way better than that.

A harsh slap to his cheek startled him out of his stupor, and his vision cleared for long enough to catch Johnny crouched down in front of him, adorned in full gear. What an attractive sight. Five years earlier and he’d have done anything to have this man dressed like this and wrapped around his fingers. Nowadays, there were no hard feelings, and he definitely meant dick feelings with that. Johnny was a brother, someone to rely on, albeit he had never considered it to be meant in such a literal way. 

“Ha...ds…” He forced out, drawing the older’s attention to his frozen arms. Since a while now, he had kept them like this, in hopes of the blood clotting faster and the wounds not getting further irritated, and the taller must have gotten the hint. Big hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him up, careful not to jostle his arms as Johnny allowed him to cling onto him like a baby sloth with his mother. At least Renjun did feel like a sloth, too exhausted to move much, stupid enough to grab his own arm instead of a branch and fall down into his own demise.

His side hurt with every rushed step the older took, bones pressing against his lungs uncomfortably, and the dust in the air didn’t exactly help his protesting airways but beggars can’t be choosers. With a delay, it hit him that, well, he had been hit, and it had him laughing for a second before the pain caught up to him again. Johnny was just like him. Or he was like Johnny. Either way, what a weird trait to share to slap people out of their pain induced stupor instead of doing it the proper way. Not like they ever did anything the proper way anyways.

By the time they reached outside, he was barely awake anymore. He could still sense the warmth of Johnny carrying him, felt every step, but all he saw of nighttime was harsh black, interrupted by the orange glow of fire here and there, not shapes and structures. A messy pool of colors it was, yet so simple in its dullness.

Home. He just wanted home. Johnny slowed down, and he knew they had reached the cars. Home had never been so close, so needed, it was too easy to close his eyes and allow himself to drift off. Just a few minutes, just to recover for a moment, and he knew he’d only wake up when he was back to his bed. Safe and guarded in Jaemin’s embrace, the younger heating their space beneath the blanket, keeping them warm. Fingers tracing his skin always so soothing.

Shit… One step too close to kicking the bucket, that’s what he felt like when his eyes blinked some last times in an attempt to clear his sight, and he caught sight of the ugly blue amidst blond that was supposed to be Jaemin’s hair. Or Yuta’s. Stupid fuckers going out for drinks and losing even more stupid bets. Should just shave both their heads off instead. 

“Heh… I’m going crazy,” he whispered, barely so, because he was certain that was Jaemin’s voice too. Perhaps he wouldn’t die, no skilled dungeon master wanted their pawns to die, but if this was what dying felt like, just drifting off, blessed with their favorite thing for one last time, it really mustn’t be too bad. Was even something he could deal with. “I’m even seeing Nana…”

From somewhere, he could hear his name, distant, and far away. He really hated this whole passing out shit, even when it was too late to avoid.

  


(ﾉ-_･)/|)‥‥>>―→

  


Scratching against the paper was his pencil moving, easily blurring into harmony with the sounds of the sea outside. Compared to how vexing it was during the sunny hours, at a moment like this, he could get behind the appeal of a vacation - their bungalow set apart from the main building that was the hotel, permitting them to sleep with curtains parted, allowing the moon light inside. Even the door was slightly ajar, permeating their room with the salty breeze and the sounds of night.

This, this was relaxing, but it was also the dark hours that had always been of comfort to him. Now, it allowed him to do whatever he wanted in peace, away from Jaemin’s prying eyes and suffocating worries. No matter his awareness of the younger’s thoughts, he liked the easy-going version of his partner more and, most of them all, he liked the current depiction.

One arm slung around Renjun’s hips, protectively maybe, or just possessively, the taller had obviously marked his claim. Resting on his side, nearly curled around the one awake, there was innocence on otherwise harsh facial structures, tense from strain of the recent days. 

It made the older feel sorry. Not only the lessening muscles and strength along with it, Jaemin had also lost weight in his attempts to look out for Renjun, and the latter felt bad for that. Never shy of admitting that, he enjoyed the sight of carefully crafted strength on his boyfriend, it filled him with pride of different kinds because not only was it the body’s owner putting an effort but it was his demands that resulted in such masterpiece, it was like planting a seed and seeing it sprout, it was some sort of satisfaction that couldn’t be put into words. Yet, at the same time, it didn’t mean he liked to see such angelic face become haggard and sunken. A little plushness, just enough for him to tap his fingers against reprimandingly, that was the best look on his lover, and the one he wanted back. 

Fast asleep like currently, there was an innocence and lack of guilt on Jaemin’s face that wouldn’t possibly there at any awake moment. No amount of joy and delight could compare to such raw beauty. Though, with further consideration, he might have to reevaluate his rankings, shifting a sleeping Na Jaemin to the number two spot for the unhindered rawness, the utter defenselessness, of Na Jaemin during orgasm was on a wholly different level. 

No guards, no walls, no masks, at such moment, there was only Jaemin giving his everything to Renjun, with his neck strained, arteries throbbing, lips parted, and voice hoarse. Everything - every thought, every sensation, every emotion - it was depicted in those beautiful eyes currently closed, and it was a sight he could never get enough of. It had his body heating up, blood driving south and, all too aware of that claiming arm, he quickly brushed the thoughts off his mind. This moment was not the right moment for that.

For another some seconds, he let his eyes rest on the younger’s gullible expression, the fluttering lashes, stray hairs, and directed his gaze back at the paper resting on his knees. A similar sight greeted him there, still Jaemin, just vastly different. Eyes wide opened and the single little wrinkle to their outsides, curved upwards and wide open, sparkling bright. Nose crinkling slightly, and the lines leading down to that wide open mouth, pulled upwards like an old-fashioned cup of tea, all teeth on display. A jarring image of joy, unbefitting of their job, the sight he had fallen in love with.

Jaemin wasn’t burdened like the rest of them, and it was something he was eternally grateful for. Whatever his boyfriend’s upbringing was, a thing he had asked for only once, it must have been a wonderful contrast to his own. Throughout the better of his life, he had been grateful to Kun for taking them in and allowing them to be part of a better organization than whatever shitshow they had belonged to previously. Albeit some things hadn’t changed, and he had still been taught the arts of killing, it had definitely happened with less pressure and pain than priorly. 

Recently, though, he had also learnt something way more beautiful, about all the things beautiful, only thanks to Jaemin. Before, he had always considered a precise skill as art, appreciated renaissance paintings over modern art, knew to treasure Michelin cooking for its excellency. He hadn’t considered that there might be more to home cooked meals of those who loved him because he hadn’t grown up in ways that allowed him to appreciate them. The saying of needing to appreciate the small to deserve the big hadn’t mattered to him, until he had met Jaemin with his way simpler and much more indulgent ways of living. What irony. Shouldn’t he appreciate his boyfriend’s talents more than the idiotic expression he carried while smiling so brightly? Not take as much joy from Jaemin spouting nonsense and behaving like a dumbass? Perhaps, he should. But if Jaemin was like that, unfailable, perfect, he would just be like the rest of them, and not as outstanding anymore. In the end, he liked his stupid, naive, useless lover way more.

Now, he would only need to retrieve the looks he liked the most, of sculpted muscles telling of strength, or else their sex life might also become more boring. He also had to fatten Jaemin up a bit, to get rid of these haggard cheeks again. After that, there would be nothing more left he’d have to, no, he’d want to change. Eventually, the Jaemin he was in love with was the most perfect Jaemin anyways. (Plus better core strength.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far without yet feeling disgusted with me, I actually do feel proud of you ~ !
> 
> I'm concluding this story for now, and leaving once again my [twitter](https://twitter.com/starrymeis) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/starrymeis) behind for you to come bother me or something.  
> On a side-note, in a recent tweet I gave some spoilers for an upcoming story of mine, meaning I'll juggle two wips at once yet again which I hope you can look forward to. 
> 
> In these days of chaos, I hope you're all well and taking care of yourselves! Should some of you yearn for entertainment, I'm also always willing to write little drabbles in between if only you tempt me enough so don't hesitate to contact me!
> 
> Until then, stay well, everyone ~ ♡


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